Sour Apple
by Conjure Lass
Summary: When Ichigo comes to the Urahara Shoten for a little solitude, he gets more than he bargained for. Now rated M for later chapters.
1. Sour Apple

**Title:** Sour Apple (1st in Series)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:**: Urahara x Ichigo  
**Word Count:** 6280  
**Author's Note**: This took me two months to write! I have no idea what took me so long…but I hope you enjoy it! This is a first in a series of three.

It was the bothersome droning of a dragonfly buzzing near his forehead that prompted his chestnut eyes to open, blinking quickly into the near-blinding sunlight flashing mercilessly into his face. Even through his heavy black sunglasses, Ichigo could see summer hanging heavy in the air, the shimmering heat pulsing in waves off the concrete around him as it floated up into the atmosphere. Shifting slightly, he grimaced as his skin stuck to the green and white lawn chair under his thighs, lifting his hips to the sound of the plastic sucking against his body.

Why had he decided to come here, to sit in front of the Urahara Shoten in an aging sun lounger, instead of doing something better like going to the beach? He had no idea.

Though Ichigo had no real desire to analyze himself, had he done so he probably would have decided he simply needed the privacy, to be away from everyone in his "normal" life and sit alone where very few knew he might be. In truth? There may have been more to it, that nagging whisper of curiosity nibbling at him every time he found himself pinned down by Urahara's moss green stare. If he'd been more knowledgeable about these sorts of things, he could have identified it as…a crush? Infatuation? Stupidity was more like it.

He shook his head sharply, willing that line of thought to end so that he could go back to relaxing. He'd done enough thinking about the blonde lately anyway. All it ever led to was endless amounts of confusion regarding his sexuality and restless dreams of milk white skin just out of his finger's reach.

The owner of the shop had been only too happy to oblige Ichigo's desire for solitude, setting the youth up in one of the few outdoor chairs he owned and then leaving him to his thoughts. Only every so often had Ichigo even bothered to open his eyes, cocking an orange eyebrow when he could have sworn he felt a gaze on his back…or his front…or from the side. It was an odd sensation, though not an entirely unpleasant one; a warm burn in his belly that made heat rise up in his cheeks without his say-so. Each time, however, he found that no one was around, leading him to believe that perhaps Ururu or Jinta were wandering around the premises taking care of some business for Urahara.

It was only after an hour and a half of this strange re-occurring sensation that the shopkeeper in question finally began to appear, performing strange tasks and then retreating back into the safety of the shop. Ichigo, for his part, did his best to hide the fact that he was watching his host, though he had the feeling that he wasn't exactly being subtle about it. He surmised that he simply didn't have enough experience to be sneaky, which was probably all the more reason to not do it.

But there were so many things he found strangely fascinating about Urahara, even when the older man didn't seem to be accomplishing anything at all. He'd started by getting the mail, then moved on to watering the small pots of brightly-colored flowers, going out to the car and rummaging around in the front seat, feeding a stray cat, and then just walking around aimlessly. By the time he'd come out for the third time to stroll around, Ichigo had finally had enough and decided to come right out and ask what the hell he was doing.

"What are you doing?" he said, his eyes closed as he felt Urahara walk past him for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Urahara, for his part, had started all this with exceptionally good intentions. When Ichigo had wandered up to his door to ask if he could spend a quiet day alone at his shop, he had been pleased to offer him a peaceful place to sit and think. Or not think. Or whatever the younger man wanted to do with his time. It was only after walking outside the second time, the heat settling around him like a thick, wet blanket, that he'd really started to notice the problem.

What, one might wonder, was this not-so-obvious and yet entirely embarrassing problem?

Why…Ichigo himself. What else?

Everything about the young man went outside the average box, lending the teen an air of mystery that Urahara found…tempting. While other teens would have worn shorts to sit out in the blazing hot sun, Ichigo chose a pair of incredibly ripped jeans to lounge in. In all actuality, they may as well have been shorts, because they exposed enough of his legs that Urahara was certain that they'd fall apart at any moment. The rest of the outfit was no less charismatic. His t-shirt was clinging to him like a second skin, made even worse by the fact that he was sweating, his feet sitting bare against the concrete, toes extending out every so often in a languid stretch. All in all, it was a horribly alluring picture, tempting as the forbidden fruit upon the branches of the tree of knowledge.

Urahara had always had a problem resisting the temptation of knowledge…always…and Ichigo seemed full of untested theories.

He'd tried simply watching him from the windows at first, making excuses with himself as to why he might be idly standing around looking at Ichigo in front of the store. Of course, he'd made certain he wasn't being seen, moving slowly and skillfully from window to window as the younger man's eyes gently opened and looked around, detecting the scrutiny. It was only after about an hour of this that Kisuke finally decided he'd had enough of the little game and wanted to take it to another level.

If only Ichigo had known he was the second participant in the match…it might have made things less complicated.

And so the problem arose, Urahara finding more and more excuses to go outside and allow his eyes to wander over the youth, reprimanding himself each time for doing so, all the while Ichigo becoming more and more aware of Urahara's growing frustration. What was wrong with him? It wasn't as though Ichigo was never going to notice all the useless activity, though the older man was sort of counting on that exact thing occurring. He was almost looking forward to the opportunity to have a little friendly banter with the substitute shinigami…even if Ichigo had no idea as to the whys or wherefores. It wasn't as though Urahara's reasons for doing so were entirely clear to himself anyway.

And so it was with a small grin that the blonde turned to answer Ichigo's question, cocking his head to the side with a small raise of his eyebrow.

"I believe I am standing outside in the blazing heat talking with you Kurosaki-san," he said with a small laugh, lowering his head slightly so that his hat covered more of his eyes than was necessary, hiding. If he'd been a lesser man, he might have been blushing somewhat, but that wasn't really in his personal user's manual. He'd learned a long time ago that the only way that someone could embarrass you was if you let them, and strong though Ichigo may have been…he didn't have that power just yet.

Nevertheless, there was the inevitable, slightly shameful feeling that came with being discovered in his intentionally obvious behavior. He was probably lucky that Kurosaki didn't have his eyes open, as the look he might have given him probably would have been enough to make Kisuke cringe. Maybe. A little. As it was, Urahara was slowly watching his companion's reaction, waiting for some kind of opportunity to say something witty.

"Stop being a smartass and answer the question," Ichigo replied, chocolate eyes finally opening lazily. He had the countenance of someone who was too tired to really pay full attention to what he was looking at, or someone who was trying very hard to look disinterested. The former idea made something in Urahara bristle; he hated being ignored…it was one of his great flaws. He hated trying so hard to get someone's attention only to find that he couldn't keep it when he attained it.

"Do you really want me to go through the long list of chores I've done today? A candy-store owner's work is never done I'm afraid. Paperwork…schmoozing customers…"

Urahara would have continued if not for Ichigo, who raised a hand with a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "You're right, I don't want to know that badly."

Ichigo looked up at the older man, eyebrows drawing together in slight frustration. There was coyness about him that the teen found peculiar, as though he were up to something nefarious (as if that were a surprise). The very thought made him inwardly amused, the corners of his mouth drawing up in a tiny, quiet smile. Here was a man who prided himself on having his finger in every pie, being in control of every moment, and yet he seemed to be having trouble meeting Ichigo's gaze. It was…endearing…a side of Urahara that he'd never seen before.

"What's wrong Urahara-san?" Ichigo said, his voice softer than he had expected it to come out. "You're distracted. It's not like you."

Urahara frowned a bit, crossing his arms tightly across his chest before pointing at Ichigo over his forearm. "In all fairness, you haven't really seen me in enough varied situations to really gauge my usual behavior. For all you know, this could be entirely normal for me."

"But it isn't…is it?" Ichigo replied, the grin he'd been sporting splitting into a full smile. "Seriously, what's wrong?"

This game of cat and mouse, fun as it might have been, was sincerely getting on Ichigo's nerves. So much so, in fact, that he found himself sitting up in his chair, eyes fully focused and concentrating on the man in front of him. Urahara merely blinked a few times in response, his own smile returning before shaking his head and moving back towards the house. Ichigo frowned at that, twisting his spine around to watch the shopkeeper walk away, his coat blowing slightly in the hot summer breeze, a tenseness in his back that Ichigo couldn't help but want to erase.

"You worry too much Kurosaki-san," he called over his shoulder, his pale hand coming up to wave away Ichigo's concerns. "Perhaps the heat is going to your head. I'll bring you something to drink."

Once inside Urahara cringed, rolling his eyes at himself in absolute disgust. He paused in front of his refrigerator, fingers digging uselessly into the handle as he stared into the flat, white surface. He'd put all that effort into being noticed, and then when he finally was, he found that the ability to say anything even remotely intelligent floated from his brain like a cloud after a summer storm.

"I seem to be losing my charm," he said quietly, pulling open the door with a small sigh. "Perhaps I'm out of practice."

"Kisuke-san," a small voice carried from the doorway. Ururu wobbled unsteadily into the room, her shy voice slightly muffled by what Urahara discovered was a box, which was about a foot taller than her head, with magazines inside piled higher than that. The girl craned her neck to the side, peeking around the corner of the overflowing box with a small smile. "This box was in the back of storage. I was going to throw it out, but I wasn't sure if you wanted me to."

Depositing the box at Urahara's feet, Ururu scampered off to some other part of the shop, leaving the blonde to sift through what she'd brought. Crouching down, he began picking up the magazines one by one (Popular Science, Wizard Magazine, National Geographic, Highlights, Vogue…why he'd gotten these he had no idea), flipping through them with vague interest until he'd gotten closer to the bottom where his eyes widened slightly and he began chuckling. He certainly didn't remember buying them, but there was no denying that there were at least twenty or so porn magazines staring him in the face, their pages slightly yellowed and aged.

Perhaps he'd bought them for Tessai…

Turning one to the side, he smiled as the centerfold slowly came out, causing him to turn his own head to get a better look. Though a pretty girl, she couldn't have had three parts that weren't artificially enhanced in some way, shape, or form. She also couldn't have been wearing two pieces of clothing. Did pasties count as clothing? As he continued to skim the pages, he paused to glance out the nearest window at the young man sitting out in the sun, raising a pale eyebrow as his mind began to whir.

Suddenly Kisuke got an idea. A naughty idea. Kisuke got a wonderful, naughty idea.

Wordlessly he closed the magazine and placed in precariously on top of the rest of the pile, making certain that it didn't fall before he intended it to. With that out of the way he grabbed a can of lemon soda from the refrigerator and picked up the box, still holding onto the drink with two fingers as he made his way towards the door of the shoten. The stack of reading material was so tall that it even got in the way of his own line of sight, and he found himself peeping around the side of the heap to keep himself from running into anything the exact same way Ururu had.

Ichigo was dozing off, having a strange half-dream about marshmallows and a wading pool, when his attention was drawn to the sound of clacking upon the pavement. Instantly he was wide awake, though keeping his eyes firmly closed, wanting to see what Sandal-Hat would do when he didn't realize he was being watched. Of course, this all depended on the theory that Urahara wouldn't automatically know that he was being observed. He was a genius after all. It stood to reason that he would notice something like that.

The noisy steps came closer until Ichigo could feel Urahara standing over him, the blond shifting on one foot and then the other, finally leaning down so close that it was all Ichigo could do not to open his eyes.

"I know you're busy pretending to be asleep, but I've brought you a drink," Urahara whispered, his voice laced with laughter as he brushed something cold against Ichigo's upper arm. The perspiration on the side of the can smeared against his skin, making goose bumps break out across his shoulder and halfway up his neck.

"Stop it," Ichigo complained, pulling away from the cold and meeting Kisuke's amused gaze. What he saw made his eyebrow rise, blinking a few times at the mess that was firmly nestled in Urahara's arms. The can was waved in his direction again and Ichigo took it with a small smile, looking down for a moment before motioning at the box.

"What's that stuff?" he opened the soda, taking a sip of it before setting it on the ground beside the chair and reaching upwards towards the magazines. "Lemme see."

Ichigo grinned as Urahara made to move the box away from his grasp, not able to get back before Ichigo's fingers tipped the crate, sending the stack swaying unsteadily towards his orange head. For a second it almost seemed as though the entire mess would fall down upon him, but in the end it was only two magazines that tumbled into his lap.

The top magazine was some kind of children's book with little zebras and ostriches on the front. It looked as though at one time someone had taken crayons to it, splashes of green and blue scrawled across the cover in unsteady lines. In the lower right corner was a little note done in a different color, purple this time; some kind of random math problem (Ichigo had no idea what it was, only that it looked more like symbols than numbers) written across the bottom and then up the side when it had gotten too long for the horizontal edge. It apparently had no answer because there was a small sad face drawn in the place where the total should have gone.

As for the other magazine? Ichigo's eyes widened when they landed on one very dirty photo, sputtering a few times as his hand slammed down onto the page to shield his eyes from the model's nudity. All he could see of her now were the bottoms of her spread legs, a flush creeping over his cheeks as he glared up at Urahara, steadily ignoring the magazine in his lap. This _had_ to be intentional, if the wide smile on the other man's face and the way he was softly chuckling was any indication. Ichigo's lips came together in an almost-pout, splaying his fingers on the shiny paper in front of him, trying to calm the fire in his face.

"You're an asshole," he hissed, eyes narrowing. "You just love to watch me squirm, don't you?"

The box found a new home on the ground as Urahara felt his smile grow to phenomenal proportions, practically making his cheeks hurt with its intensity. He couldn't help it when he saw how deliciously Ichigo was blushing, the color making his orange hair stand out in wondrous relief. Without a word he crouched down next to the younger man, leaning his elbow against the armrest of the chair and cupping his chin in his hand while the other reached down into Ichigo's lap to take the magazine away. He laughed softly when Ichigo turned his eyes away, stubbornly refusing to even glance in Kisuke's direction as he opened up the center and allowed it to unfold.

"You don't like it?" Urahara purred, trying to get it in Ichigo's line of sight without success. The teen kept moving his head with each attempt, like he was trying to get away from a spoon full of cough syrup. "Does this sort of thing not amuse you? You're young…aren't you interested?"

Ichigo's cheeks brightened further (Urahara hadn't thought it possible), eyebrows drawn together in a furious scowl. "No, I'm not!" he shook his head and closed his eyes all together.

This was too good to be true…and would probably prove to be so. Nevertheless, the very thought that these naked young women (or women in general) might not be the trip to Ichigo's trigger was enough to bolster Urahara's courage and allow him to act. If females didn't arouse the young man, than perhaps it was the less flowery sex that caught his attention more. Then again, Ichigo could have just been an incredibly prude person who wouldn't be turned on by anything…

But Kisuke was willing to give it a try anyway, even if he was probably about to be rejected utterly.

"Hmmm," he murmured, moving his body around the chair until he was sitting indian-style in front of Kurosaki's knees, the magazine discarded. "What does interest you then? It's almost impossible for a young man your age to not at least be a little curious about sex."

"I didn't say that!" Ichigo choked out, shaking his head but still not looking down at Urahara. "I just said I'm not into that stuff," he motioned towards the magazine nearby with a nod of his head. "What are you doing down there anyway?"

"Getting comfortable," Urahara murmured, leaning his elbow on Ichigo's knee. In all actuality, he was incredibly hot at the moment, the scorching concrete upon which he sat practically burning his thighs, making him think he might melt at any moment. But he'd be damned if he was going to move from this perfect vantage point, Ichigo's throat flashing like a deer's, quickly and nervously. It set off a chain reaction in Urahara's chest, made his own pulse speed up, made his mouth dry. And yet the younger man wasn't pushing him away, his arms like stone across his chest, unmoving even though Urahara could swear that he could see Ichigo's heart pounding.

"Ichigo," his voice was quiet, but unwavering and firm. "Look at me when I'm talking to you…"

Ichigo instantly looked down upon hearing his given name, eyes widening with shock. Urahara had never once, in all the time they'd known each other, called him that. There was something inherently sensual about hearing that one small word come from the older man, the way the syllables rolled off his tongue making it sound nearly exotic. It was enough to make the blush that had almost gone down rise back up again, Ichigo feeling like a little girl the entire time.

"S-since when did I give you permission to t-touch me?" Ichigo stammered out, swallowing hard. The hair on his legs was beginning to stand on end as Urahara crossed his arms over Ichigo's knees and deposited his chin there, blinking soft green eyes up at him. Why wasn't he doing anything about it? Why wasn't he pushing the older man away like he obviously should have been?

"Since the moment you didn't protest," came the response with a gentle smile. "Besides, we're just going to have a nice little chat here…no need to get upset."

"I'm not upset!"

In reality? The tips of his ears were on fire, and Ichigo could fully imagine himself passing out at any moment. He had to calm down, push the intensifying feelings down so that he could think. It was just like he was in battle, driving past the fear and uncertainty so that you could survive, so that you could _win_. True, this might not have been quite as dire of a situation as getting your ass handed to you, but it was just as overwhelming.

But what was he trying to win? What would constitute a victory?

"Kurosaki-san," Urahara whispered, reaching upward to push the pad of his index finger against Ichigo's nose. He laughed delicately when the younger man crossed his eyes to see the finger shoved into his face. "Relax. If the magazine bothers you I won't bring it up again. It's not like I'm going to go out of my way to make you feel uncomfortable."

With that the finger was withdrawn and Urahara reached over to the magazine and put it underneath a few of the others still sitting in the pile, noticing with amusement that the tension in Ichigo's shoulders seemed to lessen with its disappearance. Perhaps he was being too forward, after all, Ichigo was a virgin…not to mention completely bashful. True, the teenager's mouth got away with him sometimes, but when push came to shove he was still the same coy young man who blushed when someone mentioned anything remotely sexual. And yet it was that shy demeanor that was so terribly tempting. A veritable conundrum…

"See?" Urahara chuckled, putting both his hands up and waving them to show that they were empty. "It's all gone. You're safe from the evil pornography."

Now that the offensive material was out of sight, Urahara could go back to studying his company, blinking every few moments as Ichigo seemed to be busy collecting himself and deciding on one emotion to focus on. Finally the younger man looked down at him and smiled softly, making Urahara's heart speed up without his consent. There was innocence there that spoke to him of a time when things were simpler…at least for Ichigo. On some level he wished he could have seen Ichigo in those days (it wasn't as though he had lived far away the whole time), but on most levels he was glad he hadn't.

It would have made this infatuation he had with the teen even _more_ obscene than it already was.

"What is that smile for?" Kisuke asked. "You'll embarrass me if you continue on that way."

Ichigo reached up to his own lips for a moment, touching at the small grin that was there. In all actuality, he wasn't sure what had caused the act, since for all intents and purposes he should be pissed as hell at Urahara. And yet he wasn't. True, he was intensely humiliated, but the heat of the blonde's arms on his thighs was making him feel lightheaded, every nerve standing at attention. It was as though he could feel every hot breeze, hear every shrill cry of a cicada in a nearby tree, could veritably see Urahara's pulse pounding down his pale neck.

"I dunno," the confession bubbled up without Ichigo really thinking about it, his finger moving along his own bottom lip. He found that watching Urahara's gaze linger on his fingers was making heat rise up in his stomach again, trickling down until it pooled in areas he was…unaccustomed to. This was like every frustrated dream he'd ever had about the man, except this was all too real and more exciting than he'd originally imagined it could ever be. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

Urahara paused at that, making Ichigo's eyebrow's come together in confusion. There looked to be a war going on inside the man at his feet, multiple emotions passing inside his eyes one after the other without the usual guarded conservatism that the blonde usually had. Apprehension, curiosity, mischievousness, finally settling on calm before his lips opened once, twice, three times and he pulled the words from his mouth.

"Just wishing I could be your fingertips," he murmured, his throat constricting visibly as he sat back, away from Ichigo's body, obviously surprised at himself.

Brief seconds passed while Ichigo tried to figure out what Urahara had meant, when suddenly the realization fully smacked into him and the hand that had been pressing into his lips fell useless at his side, his eyes almost painfully wide. Ichigo's head was spinning in circles, each thought trying desperately to catch up with the next but not really able to settle on anything. All he knew was the tension in the air was crackling and his heart was pounding so loudly that he couldn't hear anymore. He knew what he wanted; it was all a matter now of working up the courage to do anything about it.

And if there were any lingering questions about his sexuality now…they had pretty much jumped out the window and died on the pavement below.

Urahara was inwardly dying. Why had he said that? It was as though he wasn't in control of his own mouth anymore and the words had come unbidden from his lips! This was not the calm, thoughtful outward appearance that he had worked so hard to build. This was the stuttering, naïve man that he'd been once upon a time, far too eager and entirely stupid. Ichigo was a teenager! There should have been no hesitation in Urahara's mind to get up and walk away before the situation got out of hand.

But Ichigo's eyes were like a warm cup of tea sitting out in the sun, and Urahara could feel himself smile in the unguarded way the he could only barely remember doing anymore. Before he could stop himself his hand had shot out to capture Ichigo's limp wrist, turning it over slowly for his inspection, fascinated by the delicate color of his skin. He stared at their joined hands, his thumb caressing the thumping pulse, feeling the way the younger man's blood was racing like a rabbit's through his veins. There was no doubting Ichigo's excitement, though whether it be in fear or anticipation Urahara wasn't entirely sure. However, Ichigo wasn't pulling away; it boded well for anticipation.

Then again, that could have been bias on Urahara's part…

Ichigo offered no resistance as Urahara brought those long fingers to his mouth, closing his eyes (more out of fear than anything else) and letting his lips trail feather-light along the battle-rough pads. In his imagination he could nearly taste the younger man's flavor that had been pressing against them only moments before, could imagine their own mouths sliding together, slowly and without force. Urahara's hand was shaking gently as it continued to move Ichigo's hand along his lips, eventually pausing when he realized he'd been holding his breath the entire time. His eyes opened then, swallowing hard, forcing himself to look up at the young man who had been taking up so many of his thoughts and private moments. He was expecting the worst, to never be spoken to again, to be punished in some way for his brazen behavior…he held out little hope.

Surely the young man wouldn't stand for such a thing…

Yet Ichigo was simply staring, his eyes wide and vulnerable with a look in them that Urahara had never seen. Silently he pulled his hand away and looked down at it, blinking a few times as though he'd never seen the appendage before, the act making Kisuke smile a little. But the moment was lingering too long, and the need for spoken words was eating at him.

"Say something Kurosaki-san," he pleaded quietly, barely realizing he was biting at his bottom lip. Hopefully Ichigo would speak before he well and truly passed out. He'd never live it down.

Ichigo's heart was pounding out of his chest, and he was rather certain he'd never felt quite so lightheaded in his entire life. The second that his fingertips had touched the blonde's lips had been the instant that he could have sworn his whole life began to crumble into little pieces…or were all the pieces coming together? Either way it seemed like something big and shattering. Rather cliché, all in all.

Orange eyebrows twitched in contemplation while he tried desperately to gather his scattered thoughts into one pile, staring down at his hand. Urahara needed an answer. That much was without doubt. His green-gray eyes were wide and almost frightened, a look that seemed foreign and uncomfortable on his face. The desire to wipe such a desperate look away was overwhelming to Ichigo, making his hand reach out mindlessly, brushing away a lock of bangs that had fallen over one of the older man's eye. Urahara's mouth fell slightly open though he was quick to recover, blinking rapidly as though he were trying to wake himself up. Former captain indeed…

"What do you want me to say?" Ichigo finally pushed out. He grinned and cocked his head to the side, shrugging lightly. "Just tell me and I'll say it. I don't know…what I'm doing here."

The response didn't seem to help the situation at all, and much to Ichigo's dismay Urahara stood up, waving his fan nervously and stepping around the chair. Ichigo turned with him, trying to catch his gaze, but finding that the older man wouldn't meet his eyes. There had never been a time when they hadn't treated each other like equals, so to see Urahara act so defeated was beyond disconcerting. It was painful. This wasn't how it was supposed to be at all! He'd dreamed, fantasized, thought about Urahara for months. Why now, when there was a chance to make his fantasies real, was he faltering? Where was his resolve?

"I'm sorry Kurosaki-san…I've overstepped myself. Dismiss this whole incident."

Ichigo could barely believe himself. Was he just going to let this go by? Was that the kind of person he was? Urahara was nearly out of reach, his blonde head sagging just a bit, dejected, not even willing to glance back at Ichigo. Even the playful fan, usually fluttering and buoyant was lying limp against his thigh. Ichigo couldn't do it…he couldn't let the opportunity pass. He had to do something! Anything! That would be the victory, that would be what winning meant. Even if he felt stupid and didn't know what the hell he was doing. He still had to do _something_.

"Wait!" he said sharply, spinning around in his chair and reaching blindly for the other man, grabbing harshly onto his black sleeve to pull him down. "You can't just…leave. What kind of person leaves after that?!"

If someone were to ask Ichigo, years later, what those next few moments felt like…he probably wouldn't have been able to accurately tell them. All he knew was that his body was suddenly moving, and all his inhibitions were thrown to the wind in the face of his desires. He may not have had a good handle on what he _should_ have been doing, but instinct was guiding him to do what he _wanted_ to be doing…and that was pressing his lips against the older man's. So that's what he did.

Or at least what he tried to do…

Urahara's eyes widened practically to the size of saucers when his face was pulled down to meet Ichigo's, the younger man's lips landing not against his own…but at the corner of his mouth. Awkward seconds passed as their eyes met and locked, Ichigo's cheeks beginning to color bright pink, Urahara's lips curling into a gentle smile. Then, as though it had been planned that way, Kisuke began gently kissing at the corner of Ichigo's mouth, nipping at the skin tenderly while holding their gazes together. There would be no embarrassing the younger man about his slight blunder, nothing to make him feel as though he wouldn't want to do this again.

Slowly Urahara watched the embarrassment ease from Ichigo's expression, a hazy, yearning look rising in its place to mesmerize Kisuke in a way that he couldn't seem to resist (and wasn't sure he wanted to). First kisses were always so perfect, no matter how sloppy or strange or completely embarrassing. This one was no exception, a delicious blend of eroticism and naiveté that was enough to leave anyone breathless and wanting. Who wouldn't want more?

Though from the way Ichigo hadn't been breathing for the past thirty seconds, Urahara was starting to think that the younger man might pass out before they got that far.

"Breathe Kurosaki-kun," he murmured softly, pulling away fractionally and running his nose along the stubborn jaw-line until he reached Ichigo's ear. He felt a shiver run through the younger man's body as his breath bounced off the shell of his ear, wanting so much to simply latch onto the lobe and suckle at it for a little while. But Urahara knew that if he pushed Ichigo too far, too fast, that he very well might fall over on the spot and die or something. Better to take things more slowly…there was all the time in the world to develop this to fruition.

"Kurosaki-kun," he said, clearing his throat while he pulled away to look into Ichigo's face. "Would you care to accompany me to dinner tomorrow night?"

Mortified…absolutely mortified. That would have been an accurate description of how Ichigo was feeling when he missed Urahara's lips. If he could have turned into a puddle of goo and sunk down into the ground he would have gladly done so just to get away from his humiliation. However, much to his surprise, the blonde didn't seem bothered by it at all, instead doing wicked things with his lips and teeth to the side of Ichigo's mouth. It pulled Ichigo's breath from his lungs in a rush and didn't allow it back in, making his body heat up in ways that had nothing to do with the summer sun.

It wasn't until moments later that he realized that Urahara had pulled away, his ear tingling from the feel of the older man's breath on his skin. Mouth falling open slightly, his head tried to wrap around what had just been said. Had Urahara just…asked him out on a date? A "date" date? As in a dressing up, having dinner together, kiss at the end of the night…date? That sounded so…normal.

"I-I…," he stammered, letting his fingers run up Urahara's forearm until they rested on his elbow, rubbing circles in the crease. Finally his voice seemed to find him again and he was able to speak.

"Sure. Under one condition…"

"Lovely!" Urahara practically chirped, his fan coming out with a loud snap to fan at his face, making Ichigo smile despite himself. "Don't worry about money. I will pay for your every whim. Just…make sure to dress nice…and…wait, condition?"

"Yes."

"Name it Kurosaki-kun, and it is yours." he murmured, eyes lidded and expression soft. It made Ichigo want to lean forward again, feel that same heat, only more so.

But that wasn't what he was going to do. Instead, Ichigo's face broke out into a wide grin and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest to scrutinize Urahara with a raised eyebrow.

"You have to shave."

Urahara seemed almost taken aback, the fan falling loosely at his side as he looked at Ichigo as though he'd grown a second head.

"Truly you've cut me to the quick," he took a deep breath and bowed down slightly. His eyes were shadowed and mysterious, full of some unknown emotion as they gazed from under his hat, making Ichigo swallow hard. He wasn't quite sure what that look was for…wasn't sure how to place it. He knew only that it made his pulse speed up and his face flush hotly. "If I didn't want you so badly I'd never agree to it. Lucky for you you're quite hard to say 'no' to."

Unable to stop the blush that rose up into his cheeks, Ichigo turned his gaze away and pretended not to notice the smile that was rising up onto his own face nor the soft, secretive chuckle that rose from Urahara's throat.

This was going to be an interesting date…

!!

Thanks a lot for making it all the way to the end! You have my luffs!!

Cherry!


	2. Peach Fuzz

The water ran down the sink basin slowly, accented with little pink ribbons that accompanied it down the pipes and into the se

The water ran down the sink basin slowly, accented with little pink ribbons that accompanied it down the pipes and into the sewer far below. Urahara looked down at it with an almost shocked expression, a straight-edged razor held loosely in his fingers, foamy white suds clinging to his cheeks. It had been so long since he'd been clean-shaven that he must have forgotten the intricacies of a well-performed trim, having cut himself on the first swing. He should have just invented something to eliminate the hair all together but…he really didn't have the spare hour or so it would take to make that.

"Kisuke-san?" he heard from the doorway, glancing downwards in the mirror to see Ururu peeking around the side of the doorframe, her long bangs hanging precariously between her large eyes. "I heard you make a noise, are you all right? Do you need help?"

Urahara was about to tell her 'no' when he glanced down at the razor in his hands, a small smile lighting up his gray eyes before turning around to face the small girl. Holding out the instrument to her, he moved until he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his hands gripping the sides (still warm from his earlier soak in the tub) before sighing softly. Perhaps Ururu would have a more steady hand than he did at the moment. He'd been something akin to a basket case ever since he'd woken up that morning, barely able to get down even his morning tea and basically being restless the entire day. The great Urahara Kisuke could easily go into battle without the blink of an eye, but tell him he was about to go on a date and he was a complete wreck. What a mess.

"I would be greatly obliged if you would assist me Ururu," he said, watching her crawl up next to him with a wide grin. She loved being useful like this, able to do things that Jinta could not, and Kisuke was more than happy to indulge her. Anything to keep her from crying and cowering all the time. He let his head fall slightly to the side, baring one side of his face to her as she leaned in with a very serious expression, the straightedge at the ready.

"Please do not move Kisuke-san," she murmured softly, her hand swift and precise, easily cleaning the long stubble away without much fuss. Within moments he was closing his eyes, allowing himself to relax under her motions, the only sounds the pulse of his blood and the strokes of the knife. In all actuality, she was rather good at this, her touch soft and undeniably subtle. It was an ease that he desperately needed when his skin felt like it was going to jump off his body and run away down the street.

The knife left his cheek, only to return a second later on the other side, Ururu just as silent as before. Urahara was startled however when she cleared her throat, the small voice firm in a way that he wasn't accustomed to. What was she up to? Forthright behavior wasn't exactly her strong suit.

"Now…you will be polite tonight, right?" she asked, pausing her hand until he opened his eyes to look at her. Her face was very serious, and he could feel a wide grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Was Ururu…giving him dating advice? "Don't embarrass Ichigo too much…and open doors for him."

"I'm always polite!" Urahara said, a bit flustered, glancing away from Ururu's accusing stare. When had he treated Ichigo with anything less than complete decorum? Okay, okay…there may have been a few times that he probably hadn't treated the younger man the way he might have liked, but Ichigo was so finicky! It was hard to give him what he wanted all the time! If you could even figure out what that was…

"I will do my best to make him exceedingly happy tonight. Anything else?" he chuckled softly. Ururu put her finger to her lips, momentarily deep in thought, but then shook her head and went back to shaving his face. The amused grin that had been upon his lips turned decidedly lecherous, his eyes shimmering with mischief. "I promise not to even try to take advantage of him at the end of the evening."

"Kisuke-san!" Ururu blushed hotly and gave him wide, admonishing eyes. "You shouldn't even be thinking about things like that!"

"I shouldn't," he admitted. "But I'm afraid I am."

"Well, stop."

"Yes, ma'am."

The rest of the shave went on silently, Kisuke eventually finding himself standing in front of his wardrobe wearing nothing but a blank sort of expression and a towel. It wasn't that he didn't have any modern clothes, only that he didn't know what Ichigo would particularly like to see. The teen never seemed to have any problem with his usual attire, but that wasn't exactly appropriate for what Urahara had in mind. Tonight was more of a…special…formal sort of affair. It warranted a special sort of garb.

"I think the black suit would look nice Kisuke-san," Ururu chimed from her place on his futon, nodding towards the formal wear hanging on the far right of the closet. Wordlessly Urahara pulled it out, smiling slightly at the rather expensive clothing. He'd bought the suit on a whim, wondering what he'd look like in it, never really intending to wear it anywhere. Now he was glad he'd gotten it. Ichigo probably wouldn't be expecting anything like this.

"Cover your eyes Ururu," he said with a small chuckle, waiting until the small girl's hands were firmly over her eyes.

The sea-foam green towel fell to the ground in a little puddle as he pulled on the slacks, not bothering with underwear (not that he did that often anyway) before putting on the forest green shirt and taking a deep breath. If he just concentrated on the basics like dressing himself and brushing his teeth than maybe he wouldn't worry about the fact that in about an hour he was going to be going on a date with Ichigo. Maybe his heart would stop jumping all over itself every time he remembered the soft look in the redhead's eyes, the way their lips had met in what had to be the goofiest kiss on the face of the earth. Maybe he'd feel more confident and less like an inexperienced teenager.

Maybe he'd be able to get his tie on without getting his fingers caught in the knot!

Urahara let his arms fall to his side (after dislodging his index finger from the deep silver tie around his neck), before staring at his image in the full-length mirror. Though common sense told him the reflection was himself, it was still like looking at a stranger. Who was he kidding? It wasn't as though he were a young man anymore. It wasn't as though he didn't know perfectly well how completely and utterly wrong it was to be courting Ichigo. But try as he might (and let's be honest, he wasn't trying all _that_ hard) he couldn't seem to help himself. Ichigo could have been sin incarnate and Kisuke still would have pursued him. Wasn't that just the story of his life?

So caught up was he in his own thoughts that he failed to notice Ururu coming up behind him, tugging on the hem of his jacket to pull him down to her level. A wide smile was Kisuke's only response as she began to work on the tie that he'd given up on a moment before, her gaze focused until she backed away and nodded in a satisfied way. He had to admit that she had done a better job of it than he had been attempting to do. Now all that was left was to put on his shoes…and pick up his date…

"You look so handsome," she said happily. "Tonight is going to go great, you'll see."

"Are you sure?" he asked, pausing in the doorway to look back at her over his shoulder. "I'd hate to think I got all dressed up for nothing."

"Positive!" she beamed at him, her eyes glittering with mirth. Her face changed drastically however when she looked down at his feet, her eyebrows coming together in a frown. "Kisuke-san?"

"Yes?"

"You can't wear the sandals with your suit…"

Across town a similar scenario was playing out, the dim lighting of Kurosaki Ichigo's desk lamp sending deep shadows across his hair, making it seem almost a burnt pumpkin color. He too was evaluating his reflection, from the black pinstripe pants clinging to his hips to the snug white shirt hugging his torso. He didn't think he looked too bad (though he had been unable to do anything with his hair), though there was still a niggling sense of nervousness eating at the edge of his calm outer exterior. Would Urahara like the outfit? Was this what he was expecting? Did it matter? Ichigo hated to admit that it _did_ matter…quite a bit actually. He wanted the older man to be absolutely stunned, completely impressed, and his cheeks colored at the implication of what that desire meant. It was disconcerting but exciting to feel this way about another human being.

"Where's my other shoe?" he murmured, glancing under his bed to find the spouse of the boot he had already put on. He' d seen it just the other day, he was sure of it!

"It's under the desk Ichi-nii," Karin said from the doorway, making Ichigo spin abruptly to look at her, nearly bumping his head on the bed frame in the process. She had been the only one he'd told about this date, trusting that she'd keep it a secret from their father as long as she could. It wasn't that Ichigo cared what his dad may have thought, he just didn't feel like dealing with the questions, embarrassment, and inevitable threats that would come with dating a man so much older than himself. The question of legality also briefly reared its head, but he banished the thought since in a few months it would no longer be an issue.

Oh, and let's not forget the tiny matter of Ichigo coming out of the closet…yeah…he hadn't quite figured out how he was going to do that just yet.

"Thanks," he said, sitting down on the desk and lacing up his black leather shoe on the chair in front of him. Once finished he stared at it blankly, trying to calm his nerves enough to think clearly. Ichigo felt as though his skin was clammy, an almost unbearable tightening growing in his chest with each breath. Was this how everyone felt on their first date? He assumed that it probably was, even if this wasn't exactly a normal first date. "Is…Ura…," he paused, blinking at Karin as he tried to force his circling thoughts into words. "Is my date here yet?"

"No, but," Karin began, only to be cut off by the ringing of the doorbell on the lower level. Her face broke out into a wide grin as Ichigo's eyes shot open comically, his tongue coming out to lick at suddenly dry lips. "Well! Looks like that's your date! I'll let him in."

Ichigo froze in place, listening to the sound of her footsteps bounding down the stairs and the squeak of the front door as it swung open. Though distant and quiet, he could hear Kisuke introducing himself to Karin, the blonde's voice setting off fireworks in Ichigo's brain and making it even harder to move his already unwilling body. This had to be some kind of magic. It couldn't just be attraction. Was attraction like this? Swallowing thickly, he eventually managed to force his feet to move down the hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs to muster all his courage. Why was this so hard?

He had been about to take that first daring step downward (when did the staircase get so long?) when a pulse of reiastu from below caught him off guard, making him pause to evaluate it. Kisuke's pressure was jumping up and down rapidly, nervous and warm, fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird in summer air. The feel of it, though surprising, made Ichigo feel instantly better about things. Maybe he wasn't the only one feeling anxious about this little tryst, though he wasn't sure what the older man had to be nervous about. Urahara was the one with the several centuries experience to fall back on, while Ichigo was just starting out of the gate.

"Kurosaki-kun?" Kisuke called from the lower level, Ichigo's heart jumping into his throat as embarrassment coursed through him. "Are you going to stand at the stairs all night? I had hoped you were hungry."

"Yeah, I'm coming," Ichigo answered finally, boots making soft sounds on the stairs as he made his approach. He'd barely reached the bottom when his eyes fell on his companion, feet practically falling over one another in an effort to keep up with his faltering brain. Since when did Urahara look like _that_? Gone was the unshaven, slightly unkempt man that he usually associated with, to be replaced by someone he couldn't have even imagined existed underneath that loose-fitting haori. Who knew there was a body beneath all those layers?

Was it getting hot in here?

Long ago, when he'd been bored on a rainy afternoon (hey, it happened), Urahara had read a fairytale about a woman who had been so beautiful that men were said to go blind just by looking at her. At the time he'd thought it nonsense, nothing but romantic drivel; now, as he looked at Ichigo, he sort of wondered if this would be the last time he'd ever have working eyes again. Certainly it wasn't fair that one young man should be so breathtakingly radiant. Of course, he'd never call Ichigo that to his face. The young man might not take it entirely as the compliment it was intended to be.

Not to mention Kisuke had never been exactly good at giving compliments to begin with. People tended to think he was being insincere.

"Our reservations are in an hour Kurosaki-kun," he said softly, crossing the distance between them and hesitantly taking Ichigo's hand. The younger man's eyes widened for a moment, then softened, their fingers twining together slowly. Ichigo, Urahara noted as he drew the redhead towards the door, smelled vaguely of citrus, accented with some soft warm spice that made Kisuke lean into him a little. It wasn't the younger man's normal scent, but it was alluring. Then again, Ichigo could have smelled like filth and Urahara still probably would have been at least partially enthralled.

Good gods…the teenager had him thinking all manner of sappy, romantic rubbish! It was like being a teenager himself!

"I think you may have just broken Ichi-nii's brain," Karin laughed from the door, Kisuke glancing at her over his shoulder with a small wink. "Have fun! Don't rape my brother!"

With that the door was closed, leaving the two of them to stand alone in the fading sunlight. "I didn't bring the car," Urahara mentioned, wanting desperately to break the awkwardness that had already descended upon them. To further that effort, he began walking down the sidewalk, Ichigo firmly in tow, glancing at the redhead from the corner of his eye. Ichigo looked so uncomfortable…this wasn't going according to plan at all! "I thought it might be nice to walk."

Urahara's eyes were drawn to the sunset for a moment, wishing he could think of something intelligent to say even as the silence pulled taut between them. Earlier in the day he'd made numerous plans of what to say, what to talk about, anything that Ichigo might find interesting. He'd even gone so far as to practice it all in the mirror, not even stopping when Tessai had walked in on him. (Yeah that had been slightly humiliating.) But now, in Ichigo's actual presence, he found himself woefully dumbstruck. Super-genius indeed.

"You look really good," Ichigo blurted suddenly from beside him, shattering the hush like brittle glass, snapping Kisuke from his thoughts. Had he heard that right? From the telltale blush on the younger man's cheeks and his steady avoidance to join their gazes, there was no mistaking what had been said. Urahara smiled genuinely before tugging on the hand in his own, bumping their hips together mischievously. What to say? Ichigo wasn't looking at him anymore, practically hyperventilating…if he didn't do something quickly the teenager might never recover. Still, there had to be a way to make this uneasiness go away.

Well…nothing like common courtesy to ease the situation.

"Thank-you," he murmured, drawing Ichigo closer to his body, meeting no resistance when their sides met. The closeness, cloth brushing against cloth, set off little reactions in Urahara's skin, making him feel warmer even though he knew the temperature hadn't really increased. "I must admit…I'm feeling a little ill at ease tonight. I haven't gone out on a date in probably fifty years."

"Fifty years?!" Ichigo's face finally turned to look at him, eyes wide and a small grin on his lips. "I didn't know you were so out of practice! I bet you being such a pervert scared off all the potential victims."

"I'll have you know that I only date those I find personally intriguing. No one has piqued my interest…until now."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, squeezing Urahara's hand and blinking stupidly (or at least he imagined it looked stupid) when he received a squeeze in return. Now that the ice had been broken, so to speak, the two of them were talking more easily. Ichigo had worried that they wouldn't actually have much to converse about, but as the older man began telling him about the last "horrendous" date he'd been on back in the 1960's, things began to flow more like a date and less like a funeral procession. Not that Ichigo really knew how a date was supposed to go, he just imagined it was supposed to be pleasant and not make you want to throw up due to nerves.

"…so then we wound up knee deep in sewer water and the whole date had just gone to hell," Urahara finished, the hand that wasn't occupied with Ichigo's flailing about wildly as though that would somehow explain the story better.

Ichigo couldn't help but chuckle, leaning more fully into his companion's body (that smelled of juniper) before truly grasping what he was doing. Much to his own surprise, he didn't pull away when this realization dawned, instead settling into the warm form at his side. They were on a date, right? There was no need for embarrassment (at least that's what Ichigo kept telling himself), right? He'd wanted to do this, had wanted to be with Urahara like this, otherwise what was the point? If he hadn't wanted them to be this close than he would have turned Kisuke down when he'd asked.

Unfortunately, in spite of these thoughts, the fluttering in his stomach refused to ease. Maybe it wasn't a bad thing though. It didn't feel altogether unpleasant.

Urahara looked at him for a moment, eyes glittering with wit and a little bit of pride, before finally giving him a bright smile. Ichigo cocked his head confusedly (what was the pride for?), but took the smile in stride. He often didn't understand what the older man was thinking, and this was no exception. The only difference was that just this once he wasn't all that concerned, as he figured any excuse for Urahara to smile tonight was probably a good one. If the older man started frowning and looking sullen than Ichigo would know that the date had gone sour. For now, however, he was going to try to enjoy whatever merriment the evening offered.

Though Ichigo wasn't all that good at being "merry"…maybe he'd have to practice more.

Conversation stopped at the entrance to the restaurant, Urahara glancing up at it, vaguely surprised. When had they walked so far? From the raised eyebrows his date was giving him, he could only assume Ichigo was thinking the same thing. Then again, it could also have been the fact that they were standing in front of what had to be the most expensive dining establishments in all of Karakura. Kisuke had nearly had a heart attack upon hearing that the average dinner for two cost somewhere between 20-25,000 yen. You'd think they were serving the meals on golden plates for as much as they were charging!

Truly it made his inner businessman cringe a little.

"You can't be serious!" Ichigo said incredulously from beside him, tugging at his sleeve a few times before pointing at the door. "This place costs a fortune…and how the hell did you even get reservations here on such short notice?"

Kisuke paused, tapping his fingers to his lips before answering. "Would you believe blackmail?"

"Yes."

"Well, blackmail it is!" he said cheerfully, pulling Ichigo through the doorway and into the lobby. "Besides, I told you I was taking you somewhere nice." Reaching out, he allowed his finger to run across Ichigo's cheekbone briefly, the redhead blushing deliciously at the contact before looking towards the fish tanks in the corner. So coy. It was delectable. "Don't you think you're worth it?"

"This isn't a L'oreal commercial Kisuke," Ichigo snickered with a soft raise of his eyebrow. Urahara put his hand to his chest as they were lead to their table, sitting down almost heavily and gasping for breath. Had the younger man…made a joke? It was incredible! He'd never known Kurosaki to show such a display of wit. Perhaps he was rubbing off on the younger man. Ow!! A sharp smack to the arm drew him out of his thoughts as the redhead in question scowled at him.

"Asshole," Ichigo growled, though there wasn't much heat to it. Kisuke shrugged lightly. When he was right, he was right.

The redhead excused himself to the bathroom momentarily, leaving Urahara to take in their surroundings. He'd gotten them a private room, quiet and away from the prying eyes of other people. Perfect. Though Urahara didn't honestly care what people thought about his sexuality or choice of partners, he'd wanted to make Ichigo as comfortable about it as possible. Not to mention the privacy was good for more intimate conversation…or other things…things that Kisuke was desperately trying not to think about. Better to keep his mind on chitchat rather than allow it to wander to all the depraved fantasies he'd had about the younger man.

Wait…what had he been doing? Oh yeah…the room…

The room was done in shades of pale green (no he hadn't chosen that intentionally) with a faux bay window on one wall. The "window" as it were had a delicate screen behind it, a scene of some gentle moment in spring with ladies walking in light colored kimonos out in the sunshine. Above the table were soft lights covered in large, off-white paper lanterns that made the room seem awash in morning light. The only other illumination came from the little bulbs that Urahara could only guess were stationed in the walls near the ceiling. All in all a very atmospheric room…very romantic…excellent for what he had in mind.

Nervously, Kisuke dipped his finger into the water glass in front of him and ran it along the dark wood of the table, making strange patterns as he waited for Ichigo to return. What was taking so long? Had the redhead abandoned ship and fled? Had he already decided that this was a bad idea? Maybe he hadn't gone to the bathroom at all! Maybe, right now, Ichigo was actually running down the street back towards his house to hide under his comforter and never speak to him again!

Maybe he should calm down…yeah…that would be good too. He should concentrate on other things. The smell of cooking, the slight dull chattering from the room next door…the shattering of a dozen or so plates as they fell to the floor…

The sound of breaking dishes startled Ichigo, causing him to glance backwards towards the bathroom door (god he hoped that wasn't Urahara causing that ruckus) and the man standing next to it. Turning away quickly before he blushed, he looked back down towards the urinal. There was a man holding towels in the bathroom! What kind of place had a man dry your hands for you? Were rich people _that_ lazy?

Ichigo had never seen anything so ridiculous in his entire life. He'd been shocked when he'd walked in, so silently appalled at the man being there that it had taken the better part of five minutes for him to actually go. In the end, he'd had to resort to thinking of gross things (his dad making out with Ryuuken had finally done the trick) to distract himself. Now, as the bathroom attendant (that's what his little gold name badge said) squirted soap into his hands so that he could wash them, Ichigo couldn't help but feel like a well looked after child. He was almost tempted to wipe his hands dry on the man's pants just to see his reaction, but quickly realized that probably wouldn't be the most mature idea he'd ever had.

"On a date?" the man asked out of the blue, making Ichigo pause in the drying of his hands to glance at him.

"Um…yeah," Ichigo answered in subdued way, not quite sure where to put the dirtied towel. Did he hand it back to the man? Did he toss it on the counter? Why were classy places so full of useless things? In the end he wound up folding it neatly and placing it on the counter, hoping that he hadn't just looked like an idiot. He was pushing the door to the bathroom open when he heard the man speak again from behind. "You should probably act more like you're having fun and less like you're about to get a root canal."

Ichigo glowered at that, walking slowly back to the table where he'd left Kisuke. Did he really look like that? A quick glance in one of the many mirrors on the wall told him he did, in fact, look as though he were sitting in the doctor's office waiting to get a prostate examination. What the hell was the matter with him? Kisuke had been nothing but gentlemanly, nothing but…sweet…and here he was acting as though he were going to the gallows! Enough of this nonsense!

"You look bored already," Ichigo murmured as he sat down across from Urahara, grinning at the surface of the table that was now covered with a long math problem with no ending. Whatever it was, it looked hard…and tedious…and all together complicated. "Did you get impatient waiting for me to come back?"

The older man's eyes rose from the problem, a small grin flashing across his features before he leaned his cheek onto the palm of his hand and spoke. "Well you took so long in the bathroom I was beginning to think you'd left me for dead. But I'm glad to see you've returned unscathed."

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo picked up the menu that had been put on the place mat in front of him and skimmed through it. Honestly, he wasn't sure what half of the dishes actually were, though a few of them he'd read about in Yuzu's "fine cooking" magazines. It was annoying…most of this food had ingredients that he'd never even heard of before! He could feel his eyebrows coming together with his frustration, gnawing at his bottom lip slightly as if it would help. What if he ordered something absolutely disgusting by mistake?!

Wordlessly, he peeked up over the edge of the menu, surprised when he found Urahara grinning at him over the top of his own, gray eyes glittering as though he were about to laugh.

"Kurosaki-kun," Urahara said, his voice quivering with laughter. "I…I don't know what these dishes are…"

Silence…silence…eyes met…simultaneous blinking…more silence…then…

Laughter. Finally…inevitably… Ichigo began to laugh, quiet at first but growing quickly until his eyes were closed, his stomach hurt a little, and he was practically gasping for breath. When his gaze opened, focused once more, he found his date chuckling softly, shaking his head as blonde strands fell over his forehead and his eyes glittered with amusement. Discovering that he felt suddenly bolder (there was a weight that was gone, thank god), Ichigo crooked his finger at Kisuke, beckoning the older man to move his chair from across the table and sit beside him instead.

He was tired of sitting all alone.

Kisuke's eyes brightened the moment he saw Ichigo motion to him, wasting no time in scooting his chair over and sliding in tight next to the redhead. He'd been waiting for such an appetizing invitation! Reservations be damned, he pressed the sides of their bodies together, smiling softly as he took one side of Ichigo's menu in his right hand. There was a tingling now, a line of heat running from shoulder to knee that made Kisuke's mouth go desert dry. How could such a simple contact create such an incredible reaction?! Ichigo shivered next to him, obviously affected, though still adamantly trying to look over the entrees even as their thighs rubbed together. Urahara had to give the young man some credit…he had incredible self-control.

"So…have you decided what you want?" Urahara murmured, turning his face slowly towards Ichigo, finding that his lips were almost able to touch the redhead's temple. He shifted, nose barely tickling against the tips of orange strands, smiling at the scent of almonds coming from the head beside him. It was just like Ichigo to use a shampoo that was neither completely masculine nor all-together feminine. Rather enticing…as if he'd needed any other excuse to desire the redhead. Ichigo's face remained forward however, cheeks colouring slightly as he nibbled on his bottom lip in a tempting sort of way. The reaction made Kisuke grin, pulling away a few inches to get a better look at it. Enough of the worry and anxiety…he wanted to enjoy Ichigo tonight. The rest could take care of itself.

It seemed like an eternity, consumed by the sounds of their breathing and his raging heart hammering loudly in his ears, before Ichigo responded. It was slow at first, the orange head turning at a snails pace; so slow in fact that Kisuke couldn't help but feel that his pulse was grinding to a halt right along with it. Each millimeter, each centimeter, each inch, brought their eyes closer to meeting until finally the entirety of the world crashed down around Urahara's ears, and he was left…breathless. Ichigo, without doubt, had the most gorgeous eyes he'd ever seen.

Every single cliché about love and the strange happenings that seemed to come along with it flew through his mind, mocking him, making him feel vaguely embarrassed at his own lack of originality…but…Ichigo was looking at him like _that_. Like **that**!

"I think so," came the younger man's soft murmur, and Kisuke was suddenly given to quoting Shakespeare in his head. _O, speak again bright angel!_ But Ichigo was no longer speaking, his mouth only gently parted, a coral tongue coming out to lick at lips that Urahara couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of. When had they gotten so close anyway? Ichigo's face was a mere breath from his own, a sharp intact would bring them together. When had time sped back up and filled in the gaping hole that it had wrought only a few moments before?

"_Ichigo_…"

Of course, it was then that cruel irony decided to come into play, the waiter walking in at that precise moment, shattering the fragile spell that had been woven between them. Ichigo instantly pulled back, his face ablaze with embarrassment and shame, looking pointedly away from Urahara. Why couldn't it have been five minutes from now? Three minutes from now? Thirty damn _seconds_ from now?!

There was no point to sitting so close to the redhead now, and Urahara reluctantly pulled his chair back over to his side of the table, sighing softly in defeat. Silently he looked back down at his menu, ordering quietly while listening to Ichigo do the same. He didn't really know what to say, wanting desperately to repair the damage that had just been done to their moods but not really knowing how. He was about to look up, perhaps make a joke about their lack of good fortune, when he felt the table jostle a bit and his hand was firmly enveloped in a much tanner one, their fingers linking together quickly. His eyes shot open wide, jaw dropping as he stared across the table at Ichigo's expression. That beautiful face was somewhere between hopeful and desperate, eyes glittering with determination, his fingers squeezing Kisuke's softly in wordless affection.

And Urahara smiled, because Ichigo was so damn cute when he was really trying hard.

Time tends to move slowly when you're doing something tedious, but when you're really enjoying yourself it always seemed to go so quickly. Or at least Ichigo seemed to think so. One minute they were talking about Urahara's latest invention (something about quantum physics and the time-space continuum…Ichigo did his best to keep up) and the next they were chatting about their favorite rock bands (Urahara apparently liked The Urge…who knew?). It was all going by so fast that before Ichigo knew it the door to their room was being opened and two women were walking in carrying numerous lacquered serving dishes and the air began to smell of jasmine and ginger.

Ichigo was a little surprised when their meals were actually set before them, having thought they would be child-sized at best. Instead he was greeted with what had to be enough to feed four people, glancing around towards each full dish with appreciation…at least they weren't getting ripped off! Urahara seemed pleased as well, chopsticks working furiously at some strange dish of noodles and some kind of meat that Ichigo couldn't really identify but smelled delicious. Grinning widely, he lurched forward, snatching a piece of meat from Kisuke's bowl and quickly shoving it into his mouth even as the blonde moved to cover his meal.

"Kurosaki-kuuuun!" he nearly whined, making Ichigo smile. "If you had wanted this dish you should have ordered it!

Ichigo only smiled, chewing slowly as Kisuke returned to his food. The night had been smooth sailing since their near kiss, smiles becoming the norm as the two of them relaxed. Yep…smooth sailing…except when Ichigo had begun eating his meal rather intently but was interrupted by a socked foot began trailed up his calf. Of course he had instantly choked in surprise, eyes nearly popping from his head at the unexpected contact. However after a few well-placed pats on the back from the amused (and slightly mortified) blonde things had calmed down, though Ichigo had discovered ten minutes later that Urahara had never put his shoe back on. No, he didn't choke the second time…yes, he had reciprocated (blushing the entire time much to his own dismay)…

"I think I'm about ready to go," Urahara said, putting the yen down on the table (though he looked a little green from doing so) and sliding on his shoe with a playful wink. Ichigo's face must have shown some kind of emotion because the blonde smiled at him and shook his head. "We're not going home yet Kurosaki-kun, I just don't want to spend the whole night here…come on…"

"So…what would you like to do now?" Urahara murmured, looking at Ichigo from the corner of his eye. Ichigo only shrugged, not really sure what to say or what to suggest. It wasn't as though he had a lot of practice with these sorts of things, and much to his embarrassment, he had sort of been expecting Kisuke to come up with all the plans for the evening. Licking at his bottom lip slowly, he blew a small blast of hot air from his nose and smiled. It was a warm night, warm enough that he was wondering how Urahara was standing being in a suit jacket.

Maybe he should…did he even have the nerve for that? Surprisingly, he found that he did.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself and ignoring Urahara's confused expression, he quickly slid up behind the blonde and wrapped his hands underneath Kisuke's arms and around his chest. No turning back now! The fabric of the jacket was soft against his fingertips, sliding smoothly as he began to pull rearward, tugging gently to persuade the older man to put his arms back and allow the clothing to be removed. Kisuke, much to his amusement, remained nearly frozen the entire time, though Ichigo could have sworn he felt the older man's heart pounding rabidly as his touch grazed near the center of his chest. This was encouraging. Who knew he could have so much control with just a simple little thing like that!

"You looked hot," he leaned forward, near Urahara's ear, his voice giving away his smirk of achievement. "I think we're past the formal part of the date anyway, don't you?"

"I always look hot Kurosaki-kun," Urahara said softly, grinning as he pulled Ichigo back to his side, looping an arm around the smaller man's waist. "But thank you for the compliment anyway."

Urahara smiled widely at his own joke, trying to cover up the near giddy feeling that had accompanied Ichigo's hands on his body. The redhead was a fast learner, and flirting was apparently no exception. Urahara found that his heart was still beating much too fast for his liking, a hundred dirty thoughts flying through his mind as he glanced at Ichigo's rather impish expression. It was hellish trying not to think of other articles of clothing following suit, but somehow he managed to derail those notions and get back to a more 'first date' sort of mindset. The gods were on his side tonight!

Ichigo, the demon, seemed intent upon making things difficult however, purposely making their thighs rub together with each step, his eyes glittering with a new, playful confidence that hadn't been there before. Apparently Ichigo had finally realized how very very smitten Kisuke was with him, and had decided to use it to his advantage. Devilish youth.

"Hey," Ichigo said suddenly, raising an orange eyebrow with a small grin. "I'm still hungry…you're still paying, right?"

"Demanding aren't we?" Urahara laughed, but bent to the redhead's desires anyway, soon finding himself buying a pair of tickets to one of the trains going out of town. Urahara had only been able to think of one dessert he was really in the mood for, and the best of the best was in a little coastal town a few kilometers away. Anmitsu on a hot summer night with an absolutely gorgeous young man curled up at your side breathing on your neck? Did life get any better? Probably not. Though if Ichigo had started nibbling the spot he was currently breathing on Kisuke wouldn't have complained either.

His fingertips trailed up Ichigo's side and he felt the body beside him shiver, copper eyes opening almost sleepily to gaze at him. They hadn't spoken in a few minutes, content to sit on the tall metal slide that they'd found in a park playground near the beach an hour ago. Unfortunately, Kisuke hadn't managed to convince Ichigo to play on the swings with him, but he had persuaded the redhead to sit on the top of the fort-slide…thing. Now, Urahara's back was propped up against one wooden side with Ichigo tucked into the corner of his arm, cheek pressed softly against his shoulder as Kisuke stretched his legs out far as they would go and crossed his ankles comfortably.

Ichigo looked incredibly feminine right now, though Kisuke would never tell him that. It was endearing, and not something that he particularly wanted the younger man to feel self-conscious about. It didn't matter after all…Ichigo was Ichigo no matter what he did.

"What time is it?" Ichigo voice came out hushed, as though if he spoke any louder he'd ruin the moment that had been created between the heat of their bodies and quiet rush of the ocean lapping in the distance. He didn't seem inclined to move however, eyelids lowering a bit with his small smile. "Seems late."

Urahara moved his watch up into the moonlight, squinting slightly so that he could get a good look at the time. "It's past midnight," he chuckled, gathering Ichigo closer to him and reaching into his jacket that was lying beside them. Groping around a bit, he finally managed to pull out his kiseru, putting it in his mouth and reaching for the matches that he'd thought he'd grabbed before he left. His eyebrows came together when he couldn't find them, biting down on his pipe in annoyance.

Ichigo grinned as he watched Urahara fumble around for what he figured was a lighter, reaching into his own back pocket and pulling out a glittering silver Zippo with the playboy bunny logo on it (Renji had bought it not realizing what it was). With that he sat up a little straighter, flicking open the container and maneuvering the flame towards Kisuke's pipe before snapping it shut and putting it away. "You never know when arson might come in handy," he laughed, giving the blonde wide, innocent eyes when he received a curiously raised eyebrow and a questioning expression. Did he pull off the harmless look?

"Did you want to start heading home soon?" Urahara inquired quietly, though Ichigo could tell from the reluctant tone of his voice that he really didn't want to ask. Instantly Ichigo felt almost guilty for wondering about the time, not having meant to break the atmosphere with talk about ending the night. In a wordless response he moved in closer, closing his eyes and burying his face in Kisuke's shoulder, feeling somewhat embarrassed at his girly display but not really caring all that much. He didn't _want_ to go home. He didn't care how late it got, he wanted to stay right where he was.

"Mmm…I don't either," Urahara concurred, puffing casually on his pipe, Ichigo watching the trails of pale smoke that drifted off into the night. Silence fell between them again, though it wasn't uncomfortable. It was simply the quiet that stretched between two people when each other's presence was enough, a comfort rather than a tension. Ichigo had almost found himself drifting off, the sound of waves far off in the distance a soothing sound, when Urahara took a deep breath that startled him from his drowsiness.

Glancing up at the older man, he was surprised to see green-gray eyes looking intently down at him, a rosy tongue coming out to wet Urahara's lips as he seemed to be steeling himself to say something. Ichigo blinked a few times, sitting up involuntarily in response to the serious change in the tone, biting at his own lip nervously.

"What?" he questioned abruptly, shaking his head sharply. Had he screwed something up somehow? Had he done something? Kisuke looked so…solemn. "What's wrong?"

"What do you want from me?" Kisuke asked, almost a demand, his voice calm and low, gaze steady against Ichigo's own. "I mean…what do you want from this?"

Ichigo found he was unexpectedly taken aback, mouth open in what he imagined had to be an absolutely retarded expression. What did he…want? To be honest he hadn't really given it much thought, hadn't really done much thinking about anything past the thrill of the present moment. It wasn't an unfair question, he realized. In fact, it was rather appropriate considering how long they'd known each and this new turn that their relationship was taking. But…he wasn't really sure.

Ichigo had never been all that good at analyzing his emotions.

But Urahara's stare told him that he would have to find an answer, and that it would have to be given now. He swallowed thickly, looking around him into the night as though somehow the flashing lights of fireflies and the rush of the wind would give him the solutions he was so desperately seeking. Of all the struggles in his life, that had to be amongst the most difficult he'd ever experienced. He'd almost have rather fought a hundred hollows, battled a dozen espada, had the 'birds and the bees' talk with his old man, before doing this.

"I don't…," he began carefully, refusing to look away from Kisuke's steady gaze. "I don't want _anything_ from you." He smiled widely suddenly, a wave of bravery washing over him as he moved to straddle Urahara's thighs, watching the gray eyes widen monumentally. He swayed a bit for a moment until a pair of pale hands reached out to steady his hips, long fingers digging into his pants as he continued. "Well…except your body. And because they're attached, I guess I'll take your mind and soul too."

He laughed, finally having found the right words. "Yeah…I think that's about it. Does it have to be more complicated?"

"No," Kisuke answered without hesitation, his hands moving from Ichigo's hips around his back and pulling him closer. "It doesn't."

Urahara held Ichigo's gaze as he pulled their faces closer together, not allowing the younger man to look away, wanting to be sure of each moment. His question had not been an idle one…he was no spring chicken. True, he wasn't old, and he wasn't going to be dying anytime soon, but that didn't mean that he had time to waste on someone who didn't want him the way he was, or was only interested in nonsense. Ichigo was hardly the type to play those sorts of games, but Urahara wanted to be certain. He'd been stabbed in the back a few too many times in his life, and it had hurt every single time.

But Ichigo's eyes told him it wasn't like that at all…

"Don't worry Ichigo," he murmured, a small grin curling his lips. "I promise I won't miss."

He started with Ichigo's bottom lip, laving it with his tongue's attention, relishing the soft gasps and the unconscious press of the younger man's hips against his own. The soft brown eyes were still barely open as he shifted to the upper lip, wrapping both his lips around the one and nibbling a little. He continued this way, not giving Ichigo the satisfaction of a full kiss, gently teasing him, until he could hear soft sounds vibrating in the back of the younger man's throat. Only when Ichigo's eyes closed entirely did Kisuke seal their mouths together, feeling the smaller frame tremble against his own, the other man's arms reaching up to wrap around his neck and draw them closer.

And yet the redhead wasn't kissing back, Urahara noted with a bit of amusement. Ichigo, for the time being, seemed content to simply receive the gift of Urahara's kiss, only moving marginally every few moments to get more comfortable. Nervousness, perhaps? The notion made Kisuke smile, chuckling a bit.

"Greedy," Kisuke murmured softly against Ichigo's mouth, pulling away fractionally to bite gently at the slightly swollen bottom lip. "Kiss me, Ichigo."

The brown eyes opened gradually, uncertainty shadowing them before they closed again and Ichigo leaned in, Kisuke smiling the entire time at the young man's deliciously flushed cheeks. His smile faded a bit however when those timid lips pressed against his own, his pulse fluttering with blossoming desire. Ichigo moved deliberately, each brush of his smooth lips planned and thought out; so leisurely that Urahara thought me might go mad with wanting the kisses to be deeper. But he didn't want to scare Ichigo off, didn't want to give the younger man any excuse to back down, and so he didn't press him further. Let him go at whatever pace suited him, it all felt good to Kisuke.

"That's right Ichigo," he murmured, whispering encouragements between their lips. In response, Ichigo's actions became bolder, hands moving up into Kisuke's blond hair and tugging firmly on the strands, wringing a small groan from his chest. "Gods, you're such a fast learner," he purred, his words interrupted by around another small moan as Ichigo daringly pried his lips apart, letting their tongues meet for the briefest of instants before retreating back into his own mouth.

Kisuke would have gladly followed it in, but the need for air was becoming oppressive, and to assuage this need they broke apart. Gasps for breath tainted the air as Ichigo licked at his lips in a way that made Urahara's lower stomach spasm in an almost painful fashion. Ichigo's eyes were fluid, alight with yearning, the colors almost seeming to eddy upon themselves though Kisuke knew that had to be his imagination. He was just attempting to cut any overtly sexual thoughts off at the pass when Ichigo leaned forward, letting that pink tongue come out and barely brush over the edge of Kisuke's bottom lip, causing a tremor to work its way through his body. Good lord, what had he gotten himself into?

Ichigo, for his part, was a little confused…mostly at himself. For years he'd been blushing at the mere thought of sex, refusing intimacy, not really wanting to be awakened from the quiet state of slumber that his body seemed to be in. Now, Ichigo's whole body seemed to be waking up, breaths rushing out in aching gusts at the feel of Kisuke's lips working hot at his earlobe and his long fingers kneading at his ass. Everything was becoming very focused, very sharp, and Ichigo couldn't help but wonder why he'd hadn't done this sooner. He felt like a part of him was falling away, shriveling up to die…and it was a part he was glad to be rid of.

Before he knew what had happened he was on his back, blonde locks tickling across his face as their lips met again. Kisuke was making low keening sounds in the back of his throat, each small sound making Ichigo's abdomen clench pleasurably. Wanting to feel more of the man on top of him, he slowly began spreading his legs, arching harshly up into Kisuke's body with a breathless cry when their hips brushed teasingly. Gods, what a heady rush! He had already pulled the blonde's shirt free of his pants, hands moving up to sample the burning flesh of his spine, fingers massaging as they ascended.

So good…why had he denied himself this before? Had he been waiting for this? Did it matter?

As they pulled apart for air once more, the stormy look in the gray eyes above him told him it didn't matter at all. All that was important was that they were here, Kisuke was smiling gently down at him, and his heart was pounding so hard that he could barely hear. Everything else was inconsequential. Casting aside whatever pretenses he might have had left, Ichigo smiled back, reaching up to brush the pad of his thumb along Kisuke's lips. They were a little swollen, a little plum-colored, and it was absolutely erotic.

"Kiss me again Kisuke," he demanded quietly, tugging on the blonde head and bringing their mouths together again. This time the kiss was soft, meant to express long-dormant, repressed feelings, things that had been left unsaid for years, desires pushed down in the face of wars, conflicts, and a hundred wasted opportunities.

Ichigo didn't plan on wasting them anymore.

"Hey!" came a loud voice, making the two of them break apart lightning fast, both their faces as shocked as if they'd been thrown in a lake. "This playground is closed! You can't be here!"

Ichigo could feel the blush rising, mortification waxing while his pleasure dripped away, before he heard Urahara curse above him, strong arms tightening around Ichigo's smaller frame in a possessive way. Sighing softly (and holding back what would have been a pathetic whimper), Ichigo leaned his forehead against the older man's shoulder and clung to him, waiting for what appeared to be a police officer to get close enough to them to really see what was going on. They were doomed. Or at least he thought they were doomed, until he felt himself lifted up and shunpoed away, blinking in shock at how fast the blonde could actually _move_. Before he'd even had time to catch his breath they were standing at the train station, Kisuke putting his suit jacket back on and grinning at Ichigo widely.

"I think that was a sign from the gods Ichigo," Urahara laughed, glancing around the empty train car that they had boarded before pulling their bodies together. Ichigo shivered when lips brushed his ear and bit at the lobe before his mouth fell open at Kisuke's whispered words. "I don't want your virtue tonight. It was enough to have you gasping underneath me."

The rest of the train ride home was taken in silence, Kisuke pulling Ichigo into his lap and simply allowing his hands to run over the redhead's body. His fingers memorized each curve, each angle, the bend of his elbow, the long plane of his neck, the proud sweep of his jaw line. And at the same time Ichigo did the same, though much more tentatively, his face a mask of curiosity as he explored Kisuke's frame. All in all it made the ride home much too quick, and before they could even really get comfortable they were walking only blocks from Ichigo's house. Such a pity.

"I don't really want the night to be over," Ichigo confessed quietly, looking away with an embarrassed expression. "Gods, I sound like a girl."

Urahara laughed, pausing when he realized they'd reached Ichigo's front door. "Ah Kurosaki-kun, the modern conventions of what is feminine and masculine is all such nonsense anyway. You're yourself…I like you this way."

"Yeah?" Ichigo questioned dubiously, glancing up at Kisuke with his fingers around the door handle. His face was suddenly very young, and Urahara couldn't help but feel a vague sense of awe at how many long years existed between them…and yet he didn't really care. Ichigo was _his_. Years no longer mattered. "Really?"

"Obviously," Urahara murmured, tenderly taking Ichigo's hands and wrapping them around his neck, feeling a strange bit of nervousness flutter up into his stomach. The notion of apprehension boggled his mind. They'd already made out, touched each other for hours, but the good night kiss was making him nervous? It seemed preposterous! Only the whirlwind that was Kurosaki Ichigo could inspire such a tempest of contradictions. "Good night, Ichigo."

Their lips met, neither one forcing the contact to be anything more than what it was, allowing the kiss to be purely affectionate without being sexual. It wasn't even a very long kiss, just long enough for Kisuke to get a taste of the younger man before they pulled away. Embarrassment rustled through his mind, knowing how he must have looked with such a silly grin plastered on his face. Ah well…couldn't be avoided. Silently, Ichigo opened the door with a quiet swish and moved to go inside, but not before looking over his shoulder to give Kisuke an absolutely dazzling smile. Dumbstruck? He hadn't known that Ichigo could smile like _that_. Or maybe he'd just never noticed before…

"Night Kisuke," he said happily, still smiling. "See you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Urahara responded with a wink, shaking off the stunned feeling and turning to walk back towards his shop, trying to recall a strange melody that had been plaguing him all night. It reminded him of Ichigo; it was sultry and saucy and everything that he liked most about the redhead in question. He'd remember it before long…as soon as his mind cleared a little more.

Inside the calm of the clinic, Ichigo stole one last look at the blonde hair that was now turning the corner and going out of sight, chiding himself for being so hopelessly romantic. Who knew? He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this pleasantly out of sorts, a warmth settling in his stomach that he couldn't help but want to repeat. Finding himself emotionally and physically exhausted, he smiled one last time and turned towards the stairs, more than ready for a good night's sleep. Maybe the night's events would replay themselves there…

He'd only made it up three steps, trying desperately to stifle a loud yawn, when a voice from the hallway stopped him dead in his tracks. Instantly a wicked blush rose up on his cheeks, his eyes closing as if somehow that would make the all-too-familiar voice go away.

"You know, I've been friends with Urahara for years…if I'd know you wanted to date him I could have set that up."

He was doomed…


	3. Sticky Buns

The shop was dark and quiet as Urahara slowly pushed open the back door and slipped inside, glancing around nervously before p

The shop was dark and quiet as Urahara slowly pushed open the back door and slipped inside, glancing around nervously before pulling his hat down further over his eyes. He'd had to go shopping after everyone else had retired to their rooms for the night, not having wanted to explain the strange assortment of items that he would be bringing home. True, he could have just not allowed them to see what was in the bag, but the children were notorious for sneaking peeks at things that they shouldn't be. Tessai wasn't exactly lax in the nosiness department either.

Because really…how the hell would he explain why he had an entire sack filled with twelve different types of personal lubricant?!

Kisuke left his sandals by the door to pad barefoot across the wooden floors, holding his breath when he snuck past Ururu and Jinta's room in the hopes that neither child would decide now was a good time for a drink of water. Finally he reached the safety of his own bedroom, shutting the door and locking it securely behind him. Thank the gods. Breathing deeply in relief, he turned towards his futon with an appraising look. How did he want to go about doing this? Did he want to put on some soft music? Light some candles? Set the mood for himself?

In the end he decided against any of that, coming to the conclusion that if he got too in the mood that he might not be able to form an objective opinion about the lubes he was about to test. Hell, he might not even remember which lube he'd been using.

Crawling onto his soft bedding, he lay down on his stomach and threw his hat onto the table nearby, dumping the contents of the bag out in front of him. Every bottle was a different shape, a different size, and he rolled each with his finger, cocking his head to the side as he surveyed each one's unique color. Suddenly, a brilliant idea came to him and he reached into the drawer near his futon to bring out a soft lilac (it was Ururu's…honest) notepad, scribbling down words like "durability", "texture", and "flavour" next to the name of each lube. This would be perfect. This way could easily weight the pros and cons of each lubricant and make a comprehensive decision as to which would be the best for his and Ichigo's first time together.

He paused at the thought of that, rolling onto his back for a moment and pulling his haori jacket off his shoulders, leaving it to wrinkle on the floor. Slowly he moved his hand to the sash of his shirt, letting it fall open before his fingers trailed up his chest and into his hair to tug at it frustratingly. How many times had he imagined Ichigo writhing underneath him in the past few months? How many times had he awoken from dreams of burning eyes the color of jasper staring up at him, glazed over with passion?

Urahara, as patient of a man as he imagined himself to be, was starting to falter just a little bit. Each time Ichigo coiled into him, warm and affectionate and tempting, he found his self-control wavering. He likened his willpower to a still pond with Ichigo being a stone dropped in the center, disturbing the calm with ever expanding ripples. It was starting to take everything he had to keep his touches innocent, to keep their kisses from becoming more, to stop from ripping every shred of clothing off Ichigo's body and just…

No! No, no, no…better not to think of those sorts of things! Ichigo was slowly coming around, each lingering touch was bringing him closer to the edge, but Kisuke didn't want to pressure him into doing more before he was ready. It would be all the sweeter when the younger man gave into the sexual tension of his own free will. Urahara could wait…besides…he still had to finish this little experiment of his.

With that he turned back over onto his belly, grabbing the first bottle he saw and peering at it. Cherry flavored. The smell of some kind of artificial fruit made his nose wrinkle as he popped open the lid, smearing a few drops of the pink liquid onto his fingers and licking at it delicately. Not too bad actually. Not too sweet, not too bitter, tasted _vaguely_ like cherries. But much to his dismay it was already drying, leaving his skin a little tacky, not really allowing for much slide. Nope. This wouldn't work. He tossed it aside.

The next two lubes went the same way, one going dry in a matter of seconds while the other turned into such a gooey mess that it felt like he'd blown his nose in his hands. His mouth twisted in a disgusted grimace as strings of lube pulled between his fingers, sucking at his skin and basically just being…gross. He couldn't possibly put that between his beloved Ichigo's legs! They'd get stuck together!

Kisuke decided that the next lube (having passed the initial tests) would have to be examined more thoroughly…which is to say he needed to get out of his clothes. Not wasting any time, he divested himself of his pants and shirt, settling more comfortably on his back and staring up at the ceiling momentarily. If anyone ever knew he was doing this he'd probably never live it down. Thank god he'd locked the door…thank god everyone was asleep…thank god for 24 hour sex shops that one could patron at two in the morning without looking _too_ tremendously odd.

Okay, enough pointless thinking…time to get on with it.

He squirted a bit more onto his fingers, rubbing it around and grinning at the feel of his tingling skin that accompanied the action. Tingling lubricant. Normal humans really were inventive little things when it came to sex, weren't they? Amused, Kisuke slowly closed his eyes, moving his fingertips down past his cock, lifting his hips and spreading his thighs to get a better angle. He bit at his bottom lip when he ghosted over the top of his opening, pushing his index finger in with a nearly inaudible hiss. The tingling…wasn't as pleasant down there. It was almost overwhelming, almost a pain rather than a pleasure. Ichigo would probably freak out and run away if Kisuke tried to use it on him! Something a little less kinky was definitely in order.

After experimenting with a few more bottles, Kisuke was starting to wonder if perhaps he shouldn't just make his own lubricant and spare himself all this trouble. Either they were too thick or too thin, nasty tasting or so foul smelling that he thought he might pass out from the odor. One of them had been so slick that he was almost certain he would fly right off Ichigo in the heat of the moment! And wouldn't that just be something to remember? Making love to Ichigo, watching his face become a mask of pleasure, mere seconds from climax, when suddenly Urahara would slip and go hurtling towards the floor. Mortifying. Nope…that definitely wouldn't do.

Finally he was left with two varieties, a burning lubricant and one called Eros. Kisuke put his head back on the pillow and took a deep breath, trying to think of something that would calm his raging libido. All this "research" was really starting to get to him, and he found himself so hard that he didn't know how much longer he could keep a clear head. He'd already pulled a small vibrator (real men weren't afraid of a little penetration) from its place in his bedside drawer, having coated it twice with different lubricants before washing it with a cloth he'd brought from the bathroom. It was good to know how it would feel inside the body, made the tests more accurate.

Not to mention it was fun…which was part of the reason he needed to calm down.

Once he thought he had a hold on himself again, he forced a bit of the burning lube onto his fingers and waited. There was a faint feverish sensation, but nothing terrible. Not bad. Looking down at his soaked hand (were his fingers getting pruney from all this lube?) he moved it down towards his erection, coating the soft skin while whimpering slightly at the long strokes he was "forced" to give it (for even coverage of course). Gods he was starting to lose it. He didn't think he was going to be able to manage the last lube…he was just too turned on…too hard. He could barely think!

In fact, he was so caught up in the waves of pleasure coming from his hand that it took a moment to notice that the lube was…heating up. A lot. Actually…it was starting to hurt. Quite a bit. Gray eyes shot wide, Kisuke's mouth falling open in shock. Holy shit! In a flash he was up on his feet and making a mad dash for the bathroom, feeling certain that he was going to die at any moment. His cock was on **fire**!! What the hell was in this lube?! Magma??

Since he was already naked it made things a lot easier as he turned on the showerhead near the tub and stood under the spray, his face a mask of pain and humiliation. Hothothot_hot_**HOT**!! His cock was so hot!! Kisuke growled in his throat when the burning didn't go away fast enough, grabbing the showerhead from its place and moving it down towards himself to try to wash the vile, nasty, disgusting, **evil** stuff off his erection before it made it melt off his body. Soap! Maybe he needed that! Something! Anything!!

An eternity passed before Urahara was able to take a sigh of relief, nestling securely into the hot water of the tub and leaning his head against the wall. Gods he was exhausted! All that experimenting (and having his cock nearly reduced to ashes) had really taken its toll on him. And all for naught. He hadn't found one brand of lubricant that suited his and Ichigo's needs. Nothing was good enough! Kisuke flicked the surface of the water in an irritated way, knowing now that he was going to have to invent something himself. He could just hear Tessai now asking what he was making…and then he'd have to come up with some lame excuse…or tell the truth.

Lame excuse ahoy!

But it would be worth it for Ichigo, he decided with a smile. The thought of the redhead once again sent a tiny shiver up his spine, his legs spreading involuntarily as his hand brushed down the plane of his stomach. It was going to be _so_ good. Little waves began splashing around the bathtub as Kisuke wrapped his hand around his cock, biting down on his bottom lip and stroking himself firmly. He really shouldn't have been doing this in the bath, but he couldn't seem to stop as fantastic images began forming in his mind.

_Ichigo, his cheeks flushed and eyes needy, pushing the side of his face into the pillow to try to hide his desire…so innocent…_

Kisuke gasped, the first bit of water dripping down onto the floor in response to his body's movements. His hand working more quickly now, adam's apple bobbing with each hard swallow, bringing him speedily to the edge. This was going to be fast. He'd been basically masturbating for the past hour, so it wasn't as though he needed to really turn himself on much. His body, though startled for a moment by the burning lube, was now back to the point it had been at before he'd applied it. He was ready…all he needed was a few choice mental images to push him easily over the edge.

_Ichigo's back arching as Kisuke ran his tongue along his spine, licking at the moisture he found there and biting at the back of the younger man's neck…_

Not long now…now long now…everything was tapering down to a thin band of pleasure. Nothing else existed except the feel of the warm water splashing up against his chest, the contractions in his belly constricting blissfully, his heavy breathing, and Ichigo…in his mind…doing things that were absolutely obscene.

_"Just like that…don't stop," Ichigo moaned, his fingers digging into Kisuke's arm so hard that it hurt a little…so good…_

Oh gods…Kisuke wanted him so badly. There was no one else but Ichigo. Somehow the young man had wiped away everyone else on Earth and left Kisuke desperate for his affections. There was no more humiliation involved…Urahara simply wanted him. Every part. All the time. Exclusively and without reservation. His head was flung back, smacking a little against the tile wall but he barely felt it.

_"Kisuke…"_

And he was undone, groaning brokenly as he released himself into his hand and the water surrounding it, sinking down further into the tub. The orgasm seemed to last a long time, making him jerk a bit, sending more water down to soak the floor, before finally ebbing away. His green-gray eyes opened languidly, drawing himself up out of the water to sit a little straighter. If the fantasies of Ichigo were this good, Kisuke could only imagine what the real thing would be like. A smile lit his features at the thought, climbing tiredly to the shower and washing off what remained of the sticky white fluid that the bath hadn't gotten off. He drained the tub before he went to the door, pulling it open with a yawn…

TESSAI!!

The larger man had his fist raised as though he were about to knock, their eyes meeting before Kisuke jumped backward and grabbed a towel to cover his nakedness. His face was ablaze, unable to stop it, the situation too abrupt and himself too tired to cover his reaction. When had Tessai come into the room? And why hadn't he felt it? "What the? What are you? I thought…why are you in my bedroom!?"

"I…," Tessai mumbled, his face shadowed with surprise. "I heard noises and came to make sure…um…you were all right…,"

"I'm fine!" Urahara nearly squeaked, pushing past the taller man only to freeze as he stared down at his futon. All the lube was still out, his vibrator sat on top of the sheets, and the entire bed was a complete mess. The gods hated him…absolutely hated him. This was some kind of cruel punishment for his supposed crimes.

"Yes sir," Tessai mumbled, moving towards the bedroom door while pointedly not looking at the futon. Kisuke refused to look at him, staring at his wall (the one covered with pictures of the kids, old pictures of Isshin and Yoruichi, pictures of Ichigo), willing the deep blush to go away.

"Boss?" Tessai opened the door and stepped through.

"Yes?" Kisuke answered, forcing his voice to be calmer than he felt.

"Am I to assume that we'll be making lubricant sometime in the next few weeks?"

"Tessai?"

"Yes sir?"

"Shut the door."


	4. SemiSweet Morsel

Hello everyone!!

I'm back with a new chapter of _Sour Apple_! For those who don't know, my other fic "_Easily Overlooked_" ties in directly to this story, so if you haven't read some of it please give it a try!

I'm sorry it took so long for me to get this out to you guys! It's LONG though. 8300 words! Please Enjoy!

**SEMI-SWEET MORSEL**

"_I think it would be better if you didn't see me anymore Kurosaki-san."_

Those words rang over and over in Ichigo's head, fingers holding his pillow in a white-knuckled grip as he forced back the tears that he refused to let fall. It had been a month since Kisuke had made that fateful statement, and Ichigo still wasn't able to comprehend it. It had caught him unprepared, seemingly out of the blue, completely in left field. What was going on? No matter how many times he asked himself that question, he never came up with any answers…

"Why are you doing this Kisuke?" he whispered into his mattress, biting on his bottom lip to distract himself momentarily. Though the words repeated themselves in an endless loop, it was the older man's eyes that seemed burned into his memory, haunting him when he tried to sleep and interrupting his thoughts during the day. Those gray eyes had been so hurt, so apologetic, so forlorn…so contrary to everything the blonde had been saying at the time. Why did it have to be like this? It didn't make sense!

_"I'm two hundred years old and you're seventeen. You need to be with someone your own age…"_

He rolled over in his bed, staring at the closet that used to house Rukia (thank the gods she wasn't here to see his sorry state), and sighed for what had to be the hundredth time. There was pale moonlight shining across the floor, illuminating the room and sending a band of light onto the nightstand near the bed. The beam glittered briefly on a dark black picture frame, drawing Ichigo's attention before he reached out to take it in his fingers and bring the photo close to his face.

It wasn't a very old photograph, taken only a few months before at one of the local festivals in town. Kisuke was wearing a long black kimono; forest green vines woven in delicate metallic thread climbing over his shoulders and down his back and arms. The robe had been tied with a long green sash, his hair uncovered and hanging loose over his eyes. He was looking over his shoulder at the photographer (that had been Ichigo) with his fan in one hand and a skewer of tokayaki in the other, a brilliant smile on his face. It had been one of those days that felt perfect, as though it could go on forever.

Which couldn't be any further from how Ichigo was feeling right now…

_"Please don't try to persuade me otherwise…this is for the best…"_

"This can't be for the best," Ichigo said miserably, running the pad of his thumb over the glass. "How can being pushed away from the person I love be for the best?"

Though he tried to make sense of it, none of the puzzle pieces were fitting together. Too many things stood out in his mind, too many feelings remained raw, the situation not revealing itself fully. One day Kisuke had been fine, joking with him like normal…the next the blonde had pulled him aside and ended their relationship in one fell swoop. The action had left Ichigo inconsolable, floundering for some kind of reason behind the separation. Something had to have happened in between, something to make the older man act the way he had...but what? Ichigo couldn't help but wonder if the fault lay with himself, knowing how weak it was to feel that way but not really caring. Was it something he'd done? Had he said something wrong? The answers didn't seem to be forthcoming since he couldn't figure it out himself and Urahara was refusing to meet with him.

He'd even told Tessai and the kids not to let Ichigo into the shop…

Slowly he let the picture fall to the side near his pillow, finding himself emotionally unable to look at it anymore without succumbing to the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. It didn't seem to matter how many times he called or how often he went by the shop; Kisuke simply wouldn't talk to him. It was pathetic, to be pining over the man like some wench from a sappy romance novel, but he found himself unable to feel otherwise. He'd never been in love before, and so had never had to deal with the pains of a broken heart.

In the end he could only conclude that maybe if he'd told Kisuke the truth…told the older man how he really felt…that maybe things wouldn't be like this…

But now he'd never know.

_"What?! Why are you saying this Kisuke?"_

Across town Urahara was also laying in his bed, trying his best to ignore the screaming guilt that rushed through him every time the scene replayed in his head. There had been no easy way to do it, no simple solution, and so he'd simply plowed in headfirst without stopping to reason. He'd convinced himself that there had been no other option, because if he'd honestly paused to reconsider he probably would have lost the nerve to do it.

And despite all words to the contrary…he wanted desperately to be with Ichigo.

He stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully, listening to the sound of someone walking silently past his room without stopping to say hello as they normally would. It had been very quiet in the Shoten over the past month, each day growing more and more tense as everyone's concern for his well-being rose. He knew they all wanted to say something to him. It was only natural. He wasn't talking, he wasn't working, he was barely eating, he almost never came out of his bedroom…he was a convoluted mess and he damn well knew it. But it was unavoidable.

"I miss Ichigo," he admitted softly to himself, bottom lip jutting out pitifully before he covered his face with an arm. All he wanted to do at the moment was get on the phone and tell Ichigo that he'd changed his mind, that he was sorry. All he wanted to say was that he was coming over to the redhead's house right now and they were going to talk until the sun rose and kiss until their lips were swollen. But…he wasn't going to do that. Nope. Kisuke was going to lay right there on his futon and force himself to stay still, to not give in to his baser impulses, to push down the one brilliant emotion that could cause him to change his mind.

_"I…I thought…don't you care about me?"_

And he did care…that was the problem. He cared so much that it seemed like every breath he took was becoming less and less his own, as though his heart was not in his possession anymore. It had gone beyond simple caring a long time ago, morphing into something deep and long lasting, something he was terrified to put a label on even though he already knew what it was. Love. It was an entirely conventional feeling, and yet had the ability to make one feel as though they were the first person alive to ever experience its joys. Quite the enigma.

"Dammit," he cursed, turning over and shoving his face into the pillow. This wouldn't be happening if he hadn't seen that college brochure poking out of Ichigo's bag; hadn't had the realization that came with its implications. That treacherous pamphlet was the cause of everything! He felt his fingers clutch at the fabric under his face, eyes closed tight against the rush of pain he felt every time he thought about Ichigo going away…leaving…

Leaving him behind…

He'd tried to convince himself that he was doing this for Ichigo's own good, that it was for the best that he find himself someone more suitable to be with. Ichigo deserved nothing but the best out of his life. A beautiful wife, a good career, a comfortable existence, children if he wanted them. Kisuke couldn't offer him any of those things. No matter how you looked at it, the two of them being together was more of a hindrance to the redhead that a benefit, something he'd probably be better off without. That's what Urahara had told himself repeatedly throughout the past month. Again and again.

But truthfully? His intentions weren't nearly so selfless. From the moment he had seen that leaflet he had realized that…Ichigo was growing up. Ichigo was going to go away to college. Ichigo was going to…forget all about him. The sting of those thoughts had ripped at Kisuke's heart like a serrated blade, tearing at the fragile emotion that he felt for the younger man. Of course he should have known better than to let himself get too attached, but love had snuck up on him when he wasn't looking and he had fallen hard.

And so he had decided to end it now, rather than wait all those years for the inevitable to happen. Sure, Ichigo was upset now, but in the long run he'd thank Urahara for his foresight in saving them both some needless anguish. The only problem? Neither of them wanted it to be over. The look on pure sorrow on Ichigo's face when Urahara had told him they shouldn't be together anymore had stolen the breath from his body, made his heart sink so far into his stomach he'd thought never to recover it. Was the idea of losing him really that awful to Ichigo? Was he worth so much to the younger man?

He couldn't let himself believe that…it would make this entire month pointless. Not that it wasn't already.

But it was no use. No matter how many times he told himself that Ichigo couldn't possibly be in love with him, that the redhead was just infatuated, that this wasn't real and could never last…it didn't erase the memory of Ichigo looking back over his shoulder as he walked away from the Shoten. The emotion, profound and painful, had been there plain as day.

"Ichigo…"

"Kisuke…"

His bed was growing more uncomfortable by the moment, the plain bedroom walls quickly closing in around him, suffocating him. He had to get out of here! Now! So with a shaky breath Ichigo sat up, swinging his feet to the floor and shivering when the cold from the wood worked its way up his legs to settle in the base of his spine. Spring may have been half over, but that didn't mean that the nights were always warm yet…there was still a chill in the air, enough to make you pause. Enough to remind you that winter had only just loosened its deathly grip upon the countryside.

It didn't take him long to get dressed, pulling on his coat before going downstairs, careful not to let his presence wake the rest of his slumbering family. He had almost made it to the front door when he felt movement behind him, stopping with his hand on the doorknob but not turning around to see who it was. It wasn't as though he couldn't feel it; he didn't need to be told.

"Are you going out?" Isshin asked quietly, his tone thoughtful. It was the tone he used whenever he had something more serious to say, the only one that Ichigo tended to listen to. The silence stretched thin and strained between them before he spoke again. "Everything is going to be all right Ichigo…you just have to be patient."

All right? The words made Ichigo's heart drop a little, widening his eyes as tears once more hovered just beyond the border of his carefully constructed self-control. How was everything going to be all right? Sure, he might get over it eventually, but it would never just be all right. Things like that didn't just suddenly become "all right". What the hell was the matter with his old man anyway? Why, after a month of Ichigo being this way, had goat-face decided now was a good time to play "father of the year"?

"Was everything 'all right' when mom died?" Ichigo hissed angrily, his voice wavering. "Did everything just suddenly become okay?"

Ichigo didn't give his father time to respond, stepping outside before they could get into some kind of retarded discussion about lost love and "other fish in the sea". He didn't give a shit about any of that right now. Couldn't he just have a broken heart in peace? Other people got sad and wallowed in their misery for a while…couldn't he do the same? Or was he not allowed to do something so contemptible? He felt weak, and by the gods he was going to act that way for a little while, even if it was pathetic.

He stared down at his sneakered feet as he walked silently through the night, wondering vaguely where he was going. It wasn't as though he had anywhere he desperately needed to be…he was pretty much aimless. Ichigo's only hope was that wherever his feet took him tonight was somewhere that his demons wouldn't follow. It was unlikely however since they seemed to live everywhere. Pity. His frayed emotions could have used the break.

Looking back up, he watched his breath fog the air in soft puffs, dissipating into the night like half-seen apparitions. The chill made him pull the furry collar of his bomber jacket closer to his body, smiling nostalgically as he detected a hint of cologne that didn't belong to him. Without thinking he pushed his nose further into the fur, remembering the last time he'd worn the jacket.

_"Could you stomach being with me forever? I'm not so easy to deal with," Kisuke murmured, pushing his face into Ichigo's shoulder. The warmth was welcome, chasing away the cold of the late afternoon; waves of heat pulsing pleasantly down his arm._

_"You're not that bad…I think I could handle it," Ichigo replied softly, practically purring (though managing to avoid it) when the blonde brushed his face along the fur of his coat, working that scratchy cheek up his neck until soft kisses were being rained behind his ear. "Unless you have plans to get rid of me."_

_"Never Ichigo," the older man laughed softly between caresses. "I'm afraid my affections are fixed upon you. You're done for."_

"Liar," Ichigo wrenched his nose away from the fabric and angrily kicked a rock that was in his path, sending it skittering away down a steep hill. His memories mocked him, drew him endlessly into their loop, besieging him with happier times. How was he supposed move on when all he could think about was how much he had lost? Everywhere he looked the town seemed to harbor some memory, trigger some emotion in his chest that sent him spiraling out of control all over again.

He was walking by yet another set of trashcans, a startled tabby cat jumping out from behind them to quickly run away, when he realized exactly where he had wound up. Treacherous feet. Whether due to habit or fate's sick sense of humor, he had found himself standing directly in front of the Shoten, face falling instantly as he surveyed the dark windows and locked doors. The gods must have been laughing at him right now, enjoying his misery as they made merriment at his heart's expense.

"I'm not doing this," he said rigidly, turning on his heel to walk away. He was stopped however by a tiny voice coughing behind him, his eyebrows coming together in confusion and surprise. He hadn't seen anyone there a moment ago, had thought himself completely alone…but then again he hadn't really been looking either. Being angst-ridden and emo will make you unobservant.

"What are you doing out of bed Ururu," he admonished gently, turning to find her standing a few feet away in a pair of white pajamas with little cupcakes on them. Ichigo knew from personal experience that she also had slippers and a little sleeping cap to match. The pinnacle of cute. "You shouldn't be up…and you shouldn't be talking to me."

"Kisuke-san isn't here," she said abruptly, obviously choosing to ignore his statements all together. Though her voice was mild, her eyes were not. Behind that sweet exterior was a will just as strong as his own, a deep desire to help those she cared for that was as strong as any shinigami's. There was a powerful woman lurking just below the surface of that childish face. "He went for a walk…I don't know where he was going."

She looked away shyly, nibbling at her bottom lip before continuing so softly that Ichigo had to strain to hear her. "If you hurry you might catch him. I think he'd like to be caught."

That was all Ichigo needed to hear, yelling his thanks to Ururu as he ran back around the corner he'd come from. Maybe the gods were on his side after all…

"Kisuke…"

The gods delighted in tormenting him, of that Kisuke was entirely sure. First they saw fit to bless him with the affections of such a perfect young man, only to plague him with endless doubt and insecurity just as he was finally realizing how _much_ that young man truly meant to him. It seemed cruel, but he figured he probably deserved it. How many lives had he inadvertently ruined throughout the years? How many times had he hurt people through simple boredom…through carelessness?

Yes, he probably deserved this…

So why, if this whole situation was entirely righteous, did he find himself walking to Ichigo's house anyway? He hadn't started the walk with those intentions; he'd merely needed a little fresh air to clear his head. But somehow he found his feet wearing the same established path that they had walked a hundred times before. Maybe it was his unending craving to see the redhead. Maybe it was masochism. Maybe it was fate. But whatever the cause; it was guiding him, leading him down the streets to Ichigo's window. Just a quick glance…just for a moment.

His geta sandals clacked with a noisy finality against the sidewalk as he paused, finally finding himself outside the Kurosaki residence. Ichigo's room was dark, a faint beam of moonlight shining through his open window, the breeze blowing the curtains within. Urahara's gaze narrowed as he concentrated, trying to focus on the younger man's reiatsu only to find it absent from the area. Where was Ichigo? He should have been there. He was always there on Wednesday nights. Always.

His heart clenched painfully, imagining all the possible scenarios. What if Ichigo was hurt somewhere in town? What if he needed Kisuke's help? It seemed unlikely, since he hadn't felt any hollows or strange energy nearby, but that didn't stop his mind from throwing everything plus the kitchen sink at him. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to Ichigo that he could have prevented, would never be able to move past it. His heart wasn't that strong. What was he going to do?

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, to relax the ripples that were cascading through his emotions. It was probably something as simple as Ichigo going for a walk…right? Right. It was silly to get all worked up over a little late night excursion, though he jumped up into the open window anyway just to make sure the younger man wasn't just masking his reiatsu remarkably well. Not that Ichigo was especially good at that, but he'd surprised Urahara before so it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.

"Ichigo?" Kisuke whispered softly, glancing around the empty bedroom. Not there. He gradually let out a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding, climbing through the window frame to settle on the rumpled comforter for a moment. Upon closer inspection he found that the sheets were still warm, the indentation of Ichigo's spiky head still visible upon the pillow as Kisuke ran his fingertips along its fluffy surface. He hadn't been gone long, that much was certain. Now the only question remaining was why the younger man had left in the first place…

Kisuke's eyes wandered over the bed, settling on a picture frame resting beside the pillow. He knew that photo. He remembered that smile. Before he could stop himself he was reaching out, lifting the picture close to his face to scrutinize it. That day had been perfect, from the weather to the setting to the company. Everything had been so good. Why had he willingly given all that up? Were his groundless fears really enough to push away the first person he'd come to love in centuries? Why was he doing this? Shouldn't he at least allow Ichigo the opportunity to prove him wrong?

He _wanted_ to be wrong.

Another deep breath, another set of unanswered questions. He exited the room shortly after that, making certain to place the photo exactly back where it had been before reluctantly starting the journey back to the shop. It was slow going though, since he really didn't want to go home, didn't want to lay on his bed and brood, didn't want to face all the unanswered questions plaguing his mind. Basically he just didn't want to think…period. But the night was still young, and the stars were rather lovely, twinkling gently in a blanket of navy blue. It was a perfect evening to sit and stare off into space, even if his mind never really turned off.

So that was how he found himself sitting idly on a tall concrete floodwall near the river, gazing out over the city with a tumultuous heart. It had been a long time since he'd found himself so absolutely unable to sort out his thoughts. So long in fact that the sensation was almost indescribably terrifying…horrifying in its disorder. The unexpected swell of emotion sent a shiver up his spine as he reached for his kiseru, placing it between slightly numb lips before looking for his matches. No good. He hadn't brought them. Naturally.

"Dammit," he cursed, rolling his eyes. Couldn't he at least have this one small comfort?

"Here…let me," came a soft voice from beside him, Kisuke's head whipping around as a silver lighter rose up towards his face, the brief flame illuminating dark chestnut eyes filled with some nameless emotion. No…that wasn't right…it wasn't nameless at all.

"Ichigo…"

His hair stood out like a sore thumb in the dark. That was Ichigo's first thought as he glanced upwards to see the flax-colored locks blowing softly in the cool breeze. Kisuke wasn't moving, gray eyes cast upwards towards the sky, not seeming to notice anything around him. Ichigo could only assume that his presence hadn't been detected yet, silently thanking fate for the untied shoelace that had prompted him to pause for a moment. He never would have looked around otherwise.

Indecision nibbled at the back of his mind, wouldn't allow his feet to move forward like he wanted them to. What was he going to say? It wasn't as though he had some big speech prepared or anything. Ichigo had never been the type to make long-range plans, nearly always barreling into things without worrying about what the consequences of his actions would be. As such, he'd never given any thought to what he would say if this opportunity presented itself…which was, in retrospect, probably pretty stupid.

But maybe…just maybe…he wouldn't need to say anything at all.

Without giving his inhibitions another thought he jumped upward onto the floodwall, finding himself surprised at how wide it was before slowly walking over to where Kisuke sat. The blonde still hadn't moved, still hadn't acknowledged him, and Ichigo briefly wondered if the snub was deliberate. The thought was quickly dismissed however as he realized that though Urahara did a lot of things, ignoring someone blatantly wasn't really his style. Especially under these circumstances. Especially with Ichigo. The older man seemed simply to be lost in his own thoughts, which made sneaking up on him pretty damn easy.

It was when Kisuke put his pipe into his mouth that Ichigo finally saw his opening, swallowing down his heart and reaching into his back pocket. His voice came out softer than he'd intended it to, a mere wisp instead of the stable tone he'd desired. Why couldn't this be easier? Where was the courage that he usually had, where was the stubborn resolution?

The concrete under his thighs was cold as he sat quietly next to Urahara, contemplating his next move while staring firmly down at the ground. He had a hundred things he wanted to say, feelings he desperately wanted to put into words…but nothing adequate to break the wall that had risen between them. With no conversation to ease the anxiety, Ichigo suddenly found his shoes to be quite fascinating, picking at the fabric of his pants became thought provoking, and anything seemed to be better than looking up and meeting Kisuke's gaze. What was there to be so afraid of? It wasn't as though Kisuke was going to start screaming at him, it wasn't as though they were going to fight. Perhaps he was simply afraid of the other shoe dropping, of having to hear again that they couldn't be together anymore. Yeah…that was probably it.

Rejection would be hard to swallow twice.

Ichigo lowered his hands from his lap, pushing his palms onto the cold concrete to ground his mind in the turbulent situation with something real beneath his fingertips. The world felt like it was spinning, his heart pounding frantically under his ribcage, mouth dry. He thought for a moment that he might even pass out until suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw Kisuke's arm begin to inch gradually towards his own. What was he doing? Instantly Ichigo felt frozen in place, unable to even blink, afraid that any gesture would shatter the fragile moment and leave his heart falling in a million glittering pieces to the ground below. Urgently afraid. Afraid that somehow he'd ruin this…whatever this was…whatever was happening.

A subtle warmth enveloped his hand, their fingers entwining with the utmost delicacy as Ichigo finally let out the breath he'd been holding. So good. As oxygen was pulled once again into his lungs he allowed himself to look over at their joined hands, eyebrows coming together almost painfully as Kisuke's thumb began trailing soothing circles on his skin. The contact, as small and seemingly innocent as it was, send agonizing waves of longing up Ichigo's arm. He'd never thought he'd touch that soft, pale skin again; hadn't thought it possible. Now that it was happening, the feeling seemed imaginary, something his lovesick mind made up to torment him.

But this was real…it had to be…

Summoning up his courage from the pit of his stomach, he forced his eyes to rise, to meet the green-gray gaze that he hadn't realized was boring down onto him the entire time. His quiet gasp seemed to splinter the silence around them like cracks in deep standing ice, seeing in Kisuke's eyes an intensity of feeling that Ichigo hadn't thought possible from the older man. What was this raw emotion he saw reflected in that face? What was this fluttering that the look inspired in Ichigo's belly? He felt almost nauseous. Almost sick. Ichigo wished that one of them would speak and break the dam of uneasiness that was holding back a river of unspoken words. He was drowning in it…

"What happened?" Ichigo whispered finally, feeling bile working its way up his throat the longer Kisuke remained silent. And yet he was determined to persevere, to walk the distance that lay between them. "Why?"

Why…

Phrased so simply, the question stung at Kisuke's heart, shamed him in ways he hadn't even imagined possible. Ichigo's face was so sincere and genuine that it made him feel ridiculous for his behavior, made him needy to make amends for the month of pain he'd inflicted upon the redhead. The boy had broken him easily and without effort. Ichigo wasn't hiding anything, wasn't trying to mask his feelings behind some big show of chauvinism. If he, a seventeen year old, could struggle to understand his emotions this way…it stood to reason that Urahara must rise to do the same.

This simple realization made Kisuke smile, drawing the smaller body closer to his own, still not speaking since he felt no reason to do so. Why had he worried about being abandoned when Ichigo was anything but the type to leave the ones he loved behind? Hadn't the younger man already proven that time and time again he would always rise to the challenge? Rukia hadn't been abandoned. Orihime hadn't been abandoned. Why would Ichigo suddenly forget about him because of something as mundane as a little physical distance? There was safety within Ichigo's heart, a shelter in the cocoon of his arms that Kisuke could hide all his imperfections and worries inside.

He reached up to stroke his fingers along Ichigo's cheekbone, drawing their faces close and taking a deep breath before carefully allowing their mouths to meet. The younger man smelled of fabric softener, soft and fresh, and the underlying scent of lemongrass that was uniquely Ichigo. Urahara had missed it desperately, the heat that built up every time their bodies were close, the way their lips slid across one another's in their rush to taste each other. He'd missed Ichigo's startled pleasure with each elusive touch upon his skin, the teenager's amusing awkwardness and naiveté.

He'd missed Ichigo.

The kiss became more demanding, Ichigo's arms coming up to clamp securely around his neck, tugging on the hair at the base of Kisuke's scalp to get him to deepen the exchange. He complied happily, relishing the frantic little sounds that were working their way up the redhead's throat to become lost between their open lips. They were kissing like they'd never get another chance to savor each other again, as if this were the end of the world and they only had a few minutes to make it last. And maybe that's what Ichigo thought this was…the last kiss they'd ever share…

"It won't be," Urahara accidentally finished his thought out loud, the words whispered into Ichigo's mouth. They caused the younger man to pull away fractionally, his expression questioning.

"Won't be what?" Ichigo said, his voice a little breathy and quivering. Kisuke smiled, licking across the younger man's bottom lip and soaking in the feeling of Ichigo's finely trembling limbs against his own. It warmed him up, made that empty part of his heart less lonely. "Won't be what, Kisuke?" Ichigo repeated, pulling far enough away that Urahara could tell that he wanted his question answered more than he wanted to be ravished at the moment.

"Our last kiss," Urahara answered, cupping one hand against Ichigo's cheek and brushing the pad of his thumb across the smooth skin. The teenager's head cocked to the side slightly, as if not understanding. The bewilderment made Urahara chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. It was endearing, these times when Ichigo was so innocent, even though Kisuke knew it couldn't last forever. Eventually most purity was destined to be worn away, like a rock beaten constantly by the sea, washed away with time. But Ichigo would still be Ichigo regardless. "That won't be the last one."

The seconds ticked by as the implications of what Kisuke had said sunk into Ichigo's brain, the younger man seemingly putting two and two together, until finally the corners of his mouth began to pull upwards and he graced Urahara with a brilliant smile. In a flash Kisuke's arms were full, a nose burrowing happily in the crook of his neck, soft orange locks tickling at his skin. Yes…this was how things should be. Carefully, so as to not startle Ichigo and send him flying off the concrete wall, Kisuke pulled the smaller frame onto his lap and sighed soundlessly. With the teenager's long legs wrapped around his waist and their bodies practically molded together he found himself relaxed, pressing his cheek against Ichigo's shoulder with a tender smile.

"I'm so sorry," he closed his eyes, feeling Ichigo nod against his shoulder, a sure sign that he needed to continue. That was problematic however. Swallowing his pride had never been one of his strong suits, but for Ichigo he'd manage to muddle through it. He had a lot to lose by not doing so; more than he was willing to give up. "I just…I'm a little insecure," he paused, not knowing what else to say. Kisuke's smile faltered with his confusion, his hands fisting at the cloth of Ichigo's back. He hated not knowing what to do. Hated the uncertainty plaguing his heart. It went against everything he thought he was. He was a veritable god of chaos and discord…why was this so hard?

"I know," Ichigo turned his head, nosing Kisuke's jaw a few times until they were face to face again. "I don't understand why though…what happened? One minute we were good and the next…" the redhead trailed off, eyes pleading for some kind of answer. Kisuke couldn't look into those eyes and lie anymore; he just couldn't. What would be the point anyway? More misunderstandings? He didn't think his heart could take anymore of those. All that was left to do was take a deep breath and hope he didn't sound too ridiculous.

Ichigo had always sucked at waiting. From the time he was a little kid sitting in the doctor's office twiddling his thumbs, he had always hated being forced to sit and do nothing. However, in this case, he found he didn't mind it so much. Kisuke had spent the majority of the last century playing everything extremely close to his chest, not allowing himself to feel any more emotion than was absolutely necessary, effectively cutting himself off from the rest of the world. Over the course of their relationship, Ichigo had learned that this made being close to the older man very difficult, nearly impossible, but worth the struggle in the end. Because once each internal barrier was eliminated it never arose again, and with those destructions Ichigo found himself closer and closer to Urahara's unmasked self. So though he absolutely despised waiting, he discovered that wherever Kisuke was concerned he had the patience of a saint.

"Kurosaki-kun," Urahara began, taking a noticeably deep breath. "You're almost grown."

Ichigo cocked his head to the side, momentarily confused. This wasn't exactly where he'd imagined the conversation would go. Glancing around helplessly, he nodded and waved his hand in a circular motion to prompt Kisuke to continue. Gods, if things were going this slowly now, he didn't think they'd be finished with this conversation by the end of the night! "Yes, I am," he agreed encouragingly, nodding again with a calm look on his face.

"You're basically an adult now, and you have so many choices ahead of you," Kisuke continued quietly, looking away so that their eyes could no longer meet. Normally Ichigo would have forced the blonde to look at him, made them retain eye contact, but he had a feeling that if he did that the older man's confession would come to a screeching halt. Kisuke was looking more frazzled by the moment and Ichigo wanted to keep him as calm as possible.

Urahara's words sped up, his voice becoming slowly louder as the revelations tumbled out into the air. It was as if he'd rallied all his remaining courage and wanted to get the speech over with as quickly as possible; like he was pulling a band-aide off in one fell swoop to avoid excess pain. Ichigo was wondering what could possibly be so terrible that it was this hard to admit when his thoughts were cut off by the blonde's uncharacteristically emotional tone. Kisuke sounded close to tears, almost desperate, and before Ichigo knew what he was doing he was reaching out frantically to comfort the wayward blonde with his lips and fingertips. He would touch whatever skin he could reach, give any reassurance, say anything in the world to make that tone go away.

"I didn't realize it until a few weeks ago when I saw that brochure in your bag…I didn't want to remember that you'd be leaving me. You wouldn't want me anymore. I thought it would be easier on both of us if I ended it now. I just…I just don't want to be left behind Ichigo!"

The lips that had previously been brushing soothing kisses along Kisuke's temple froze in place, Ichigo's jaw dropping with sudden understanding, his eyes closing painfully. Leave him? Is that what Kisuke thought? It wasn't an unreasonable fear; even Ichigo recognized how challenging their being together actually was. It wasn't a far jump to imagine that once he went off to college, was away from home, that he'd find someone easier to be with. But…he wasn't going to do that. Ichigo's emotions were focused on one person, his heart decided and certain even though his mind came up with a hundred excuses as to why it could never work. His resolve was set; there was no way to break it.

But he'd never told Kisuke that, had never expressed it in any way that could be considered concrete…and therein laid the source of the problem. Urahara, as brilliant as he might have been, was hopelessly dense when it came to matters of the heart. While Ichigo was learning how to build his emotions from the ground up, Kisuke was experimenting with how to let his own emotions out of their self-imposed cage. So, in a way, they were both wandering around in the dark trying desperately to find one another. Clueless.

"Look at me," he demanded, turning Kisuke's face towards him. When the blonde refused to raise his gaze Ichigo smacked him smartly across the cheek, just hard enough to get Urahara's attention, just enough to make it sting. "Damn it, I said look at me."

Petulant gray finally met resolute brown and Ichigo smiled softly, squeezing his legs more tightly around the blonde's waist. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but Urahara gave him an almost pained expression in return, as though he was about to pass out. Not as planned. Not at all. "Is that what you thought? That I would go away to college and find some girl or something?"

Kisuke nodded slowly, his fingers digging into the fabric of Ichigo's sleeves, turning his head to look away again. The vulnerability of that action spoke to Ichigo, his hands moving to cup Kisuke's face and gently brush their cheeks together. Where skin met skin a gentle line of heat formed, making Ichigo sigh in appreciation of the simple comfort. Why hadn't he just told Urahara the truth? Why had he waited and languished about it? It seemed stupid now.

"Perhaps I haven't made myself clear," Ichigo murmured, swallowing hard against his rising fear. He could do this. He could do it. Right? Right.

Without giving it another thought he rushed forward, sealing their lips together and wrapping his arms tightly around the taller body in front of him. Say it, say it, _sayit_, **sayit**!! His heart was screaming at him to just say it, voice the words that seemed to make and break the world, let the rest take care of itself. His mind was screaming something entirely different however, doubts and fears banging drums at him, making his hands shake with insecurity.

But Ichigo let the words come anyway. Slowly. Silently mouthed against Kisuke's lips because he didn't think he was capable of speech at the moment.

Now all that was left to do was wait and hope that he didn't pass out before he got a response.

Urahara Kisuke was rarely shocked. In fact, he had always prided himself on being three steps ahead of everyone to avoid ever being shocked. So it was with no small amount of disbelief that he found himself absolutely stunned by the silent words murmured against his lips. There was no possible way. The young man couldn't possibly know what he was saying. Inconceivable! And yet, as Ichigo pulled back, brown eyes wide and uncertain, Kisuke knew that there was no mistaking it. What he had suspected for months was now solidly confirmed.

Strange…it was different to suspect you were loved rather than know it for certain. Made it more real. Made you feel warmer, more alive suddenly.

"You deserve someone better than me," he whispered almost sadly, running his knuckles across Ichigo's high cheekbone. "But I'm afraid you've coerced me into loving you. Persuasive creature that you are."

"Yeah, I'm good like that…though I kind of already knew," the redhead replied with a satisfied smirk, leaning forward to nibble at Kisuke's bottom lip. Instant shivers worked their way up Urahara's spine, catching his breath in his throat and making his eyelids heavy. Gods he'd missed this. Ichigo's innocent affections were sweeter than a thousand bars of chocolate…and not nearly as fattening.

Kisuke grinned, raising a pale eyebrow at the young man who was trailing soft kisses up his neck to latch onto his ear playfully. Scoffing in mock indignation, he pulled away with a poke to the redhead's ribs. "Oh, did you? Why didn't you enlighten me then?"

"I've discovered that you tend to learn these things on your own schedule. You're too dense to do it any other way," Ichigo chuckled, leaning back with a pleased smile. Urahara stared, cocking his head from side to side before the laughter began bubbling up in his throat. It had been a long time since someone had accused him of being obtuse, but that didn't mean that Ichigo was wrong. Emotional interaction was not his strong suit. It never had been.

"Brat," Urahara growled, shaking his head before quickly shifting their bodies around. Soon Ichigo's back was pressed to the wide concrete wall, his long legs still wrapped securely around Kisuke's hips, brown eyes amused and teasing. Enchanting. Without giving the teenager any time to resist, Urahara went on the attack, pulling the orange head back roughly and burying his face in the soft flesh of the young man's neck. His tongue came out instantly, lapping greedily at the pulse fluttering under Ichigo's skin, lavishing the redhead with a month's worth of affection. Kisuke moved deliberately, relishing the gasps and stifled moans of the man beneath him, working his way to nearly every patch of exposed skin until Ichigo was a quivering mass beneath him.

It wasn't until he pulled away, breathing slightly erratic, that he noticed how very tightly his hips were being squeezed…and how very aroused the pliant body below him actually was. However, when he looked down into Ichigo's face expecting to see trepidation, he was surprised to see that the redhead's expression held not even a trace of the fear and uncertainty that had been there before. In its place was only blazing tenderness, nervous excitement, anticipation, and above all that, desire. Ichigo wanted this. Urahara could feel the physical manifestation of that longing pressing against his belly, but it was the emotions written across the young man's face that made his heart feel as though it had ceased to function. Kisuke had waited so _long_ to see that look. Ichigo exuded an exhilarating mix of innocent hedonism and newly formed sensuality that would have made anyone fall at the redhead's feet to beg for his attentions.

"You're ready," the words were a statement, not a question, accompanied by Kisuke's tongue gliding excruciatingly slowly across Ichigo's bottom lip. The body below him jerked slightly, mouth opening to allow a shy tongue to come out and meet Urahara's own, a thin line of saliva trailing between them. Kisuke could feel Ichigo's heart pounding against his chest, the young man's long fingers trailing scandalously down his spine to run along inside his waistband, dipping into the small indentation just above Urahara's ass. Good gods! Ichigo was going to make him an inept with nothing but the tips of his fingers!

"Oh you're more than ready. You're dying for it. Aren't you?" Kisuke sunk his teeth into the soft earlobe offered so delectably by the turn of Ichigo's head, worrying the flesh with care. When the redhead didn't respond to his question he bit down harder, earning a sharp gasp and a set of fingernails scraping up his back to sink into the hair at the base of his skull. "Aren't you, Ichigo?"

After visibly composing himself, Ichigo nodded silently, letting his legs fall open around Urahara's hips in an unspoken invitation. Settled there between the redhead's thighs, Urahara found instant friction, grinding his teeth together slowly to maintain some level of self-control. Not here! They couldn't do this here! Unfortunately his body wasn't cooperating, sending signals that were clouding his mind to the point of delirium. Everything was reducing down to the feel of his feverish skin, his erection throbbing painfully between his legs, and the tiny line of sweat that was beading down his temple despite the chill in the air. Gods…and Ichigo was squirming, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together and infusing all his senses with unsurpassed heat. It was becoming hard to think. He had to get a hold of himself!

He took a deep breath to try and calm down, reaching to grasp the younger man's chin between his suddenly trembling fingers before nibbling at the corner of his mouth. "That's not good enough," Urahara whispered huskily, pushing his hips downward against Ichigo's arousal, making the redhead's body arch towards him. "Answer me properly."

"Yes!" Ichigo ground out, head thrashing to the side as his breath came out in what appeared to be a painful rush. He was beautiful like this, all flushed and needy. It was, Kisuke had to admit, quite alluring. Almost irresistible. "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Kisuke teased, chuckling darkly into the skin of Ichigo's throat. A low growl rumbled in Ichigo's chest, making Urahara laugh more loudly. Even now, in such an emotionally charged moment, he still found it amusing to get a rise out of the younger man. It was part of the reason he had fallen so hard for the boy; the never-ending thrill of simply being together. Things just made more sense with Ichigo around.

Why did Urahara have to be such an insufferable asshole?! Ichigo's eyes narrowed as thoughts of murder passed through his brain, glaring at the blonde who seemed to be about to die of laughter. Gods! As if it wasn't bad enough that he was already at an obvious disadvantage by being a virgin, but the older man had to go the extra mile and make him feel absolutely ridiculous about said virginity as well. It wasn't Ichigo's fault! He didn't _know_ how to put what he wanted into words! He only knew that he _wanted_.

But the throbbing in his body was beginning to become maddening, threatening to shatter his brain and leave him nothing but an empty shell. Or at least that's how it felt. He had to do something…anything…to alleviate the quasi-pain, to release the building pressure. His fingers seemed to have taken on a life of their own, weaving in and out of Kisuke's soft hair, digging into his clothes to knead at the muscles beneath. Ichigo could barely breath, barely think, could barely form words. He was no longer Kurosaki Ichigo. Now he was nothing but the most basic physical demands, the most impulse driven desires. He had become his instincts.

"Just touch me," he breathed, pulling Kisuke's mouth up to his own to push their lips together frantically. "I'm going to die."

"A bit melodramatic Kurosaki-kun, you're hardly at death's door," Kisuke chuckled, pulling his lips away only enough to be teasing. Without speaking further the older man began slowly nibbling down his neck, leaving a burning trail of kisses in his wake. Each press of lips seemed to make Ichigo feel as though all the blood in his body was rushing to that spot, bubbling so close to the surface it was aching, and then rushing away to leave him feeling light-headed.

He'd had been about to respond (as wittily as his cloudy brain could manage) when Kisuke's hair tickled at a spot near the base of his neck, making him giggle in a way that could only be considered school girlish at best. The giggle transformed into a laugh when the older man exploited the spot father, brushing his pale nose along the sensitive skin until Ichigo was practically begging him to stop. So very manly. But this…this was what he'd missed so badly. Moments like these. Why would he ever want anything else?

"Enough! Enough…enough," he gasped, laughter dying down as he regained his breath. When oxygen was properly being pumped into his lungs again he found himself calmed down a bit, the throbbing desire ebbing away in the face of simple tenderness. Raising his chin up, he brushed his lips against Kisuke's, smiling when the older man shivered in response. "Was that shiver for me or the cold?"

"I would say it was entirely you, but it is getting a little chilly," Urahara grinned, letting a few of his breaths fog the air around them as if to prove his point. Slowly the blonde rose up on his forearms, looking down at Ichigo with a very serious expression, his gray eyes narrowed and seeking. "Forgive me?"

"Yeah," Ichigo replied casually, accepting the older man's hand to help him stand up on still slightly wobbly legs and jump back down to the street below. "Though there is one thing you can do to make it up to me."

"Name it."

"Take a shower Kisuke…haven't you bathed in the past month?!"


	5. Sweet Cream

Hello again Everyone! Back so soon you wonder? Why yes! After writing such an angsty chapter last time my smut muse was REALLY begging me to come out, so, being the kindhearted person I am...I indulged it. This is some solo action for Ichigo, but I think its pretty hot. grin Mmmmm...

And as usual for those who don't know, _Easily Overlooked_ ties in directly to this set of fics and is also Uraichi. Feel free to wander on over there and give it a read as well.

**SWEET CREAM**

Kurosaki Isshin had to _die._

That had been the first thought that flew through Ichigo's mind when he heard his idiot father banging through the house, causing Kisuke (and his talented mouth) to stop migrating slowly down his exposed abdomen. The blonde had looked up then, eyes questioning as his tongue reached out to gently run around the inside of his bellybutton. The question was rather obvious: did Ichigo want to continue knowing that his father probably already knew what was going on and would inevitably come up to either stop them or make such a ruckus that they couldn't possibly keep on? Did he want to take the chance?

Ichigo's fingers that had previously been tangled in Kisuke's pale hair shot up to his own, his head flying backwards into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut tightly in anger. Not now! They were right there! This was maddening! Every time they finally got close to having sex for the first time, finally had their clothes partially off, finally were sure that nothing could possibly spoil the moment…something or someone always came along and spoiled the moment! Ichigo could feel his body trembling, chest rising and falling with a peculiar mix of fury and prolonged need. He wanted this so badly! He wanted Kisuke so badly. Why was the world conspiring against him?!

Another loud banging, this time much closer to his door, and Urahara was moving upwards, lips eventually brushing against Ichigo's closed eyelids. "It's all right," he murmured against Ichigo's temple, kissing a tiny trail across the bridge of his nose. "We probably shouldn't have tried to do this here anyway."

"Then where?!" Ichigo pleaded quietly, opening his eyes to gaze up into slightly despairing gray. "Nobody will leave us alone!"

And that was the truth. The first time they'd gotten close had been at the shoten, but due to a well-placed baseball (and consequently a curious Jinta) through the window that hadn't happened. Then they'd been moments away out in the backyard, laid out on a soft blue blanket, when Ururu had happened upon them, blushing furiously and ruining the mood in three seconds flat. The time after that had involved Tessai, and Ichigo was desperately trying to forget the horrid details of the humiliation. But this time…this time they'd thought themselves completely alone, curled up on Ichigo's bed, no one home and no one expected to be home. Little did they know that Kurosaki Isshin's community meeting would inevitably be cancelled and he'd walk through the door two hours early. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

"Soon, I promise," Kisuke smiled, bringing Ichigo's hand up to his mouth and kissing the palm. He seemed about to move upwards along the wrist when a crash came from directly beside the door, almost sounding as though someone had just thrown themselves upon the floor (or tripped). The older man rolled his eyes, shaking his head as Ichigo glared daggers at his bedroom door. Goat face was going to get it so bad. He'd almost been about to get up and unleash hell when Kisuke caught him with a soft kiss to the lips, fingers brushing along his cheek.

"I'm going to arrange everything. Don't worry," the blonde cooed soothingly, moving his body from on top of Ichigo's and pulling on his shirt. Ichigo watched with a partially lidded gaze as Kisuke's soft skin was quickly covered up, lamenting the loss, sitting up to run his tongue along the curve of a pale ear. Urahara's breath quickened instantly, making the corners of Ichigo's mouth pull up in a satisfied smirk. The older man had been having trouble hiding his reactions of late, a sure sign that he was close to losing his self-control. It was a good little ego boost to know he had such an affect on his reserved boyfriend, made him more confident even though he had no idea what he was really doing.

"Promise?" Ichigo purred, reaching into Kisuke's loose shirt to run the tip of his index finger along a pert nipple. "I'm tired of waiting."

"You have my word," he replied huskily, pushing their lips together before jumping out the window and out onto the street.

Ichigo watched sadly until the blonde head disappeared around the corner, laying back on his sheets and staring at the wall with an annoyed sigh. Glancing down at the floor, he laughed softly at the colorful hat sitting near the foot of the bed, reaching down to take the fabric in his fingers and place it over his face. It smelled like Kisuke's hair, like some kind of coconut shampoo, and vaguely like musk. Or that may have just been his own hormonally driven mind at work.

Either way it was alluring.

Rolling onto his back, he left the hat sitting on top of his eyes, allowing his hands to come to rest at his sides. He needed to calm down, to release some of the pent up desire raging through his body. Every time he shifted he could feel his half-hard erection brushing against his jeans, making him squirm against the rush of friction. More than anything he wished that Kisuke were still here to take care of the problem…but since that obviously wasn't going to be happening tonight…

Ichigo bit his bottom lip, running his fingertips along his abs teasingly until he reached the waistband of his pants. There he paused for a moment to listen for any sounds of his father, straining his hearing a bit, before swallowing thickly and bending his knees to allow his thighs to spread. The sound of the top button of his denims popping open was almost deafeningly loud to his ears, catching his breath in his throat as he glanced around uneasily. It wasn't as if he'd never masturbated before, but what he was thinking about doing right at that moment was definitely something he'd never tried. He was curious though…especially since it was something he'd eventually be doing with Kisuke…and it wasn't as though he didn't want that.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed his pants off his legs and let them fall to the floor in a bluish gray puddle, his boxers joining them a few seconds later. A cool breeze blew over his bare skin, making him shiver as goose bumps broke out over his body, moving his fingers up to his mouth. Not stopping to think, he pushed two of them past his lips, sliding them languidly over his tongue, enjoying the sensation. His other hand moved upwards, pushing Kisuke's hat further onto his head to secure it in case it wanted to fall off during the middle of his activities. He wanted the other man's scent near his nose; it made the fantasy more real.

With a wet sound and a long trail of saliva, he pulled his fingers from his mouth, running them down to his nipples where he traced slow circles around the quickly hardening bud. He hissed when he pinched at it, twisting the flesh between his fingers until his cock twitched and his toes tingled a bit. Ichigo continued with the other nipple, his free hand scraping blunt nails down the inside of his thigh, leaving faint pink tracks on the skin. The burn of the scratch on his skin was delicious, lent itself to the pleasurable prickle working its way from his chest to his groin.

But it wasn't enough.

Ichigo pulled his hand back up to his mouth, licking a clean line up his palm before guiding it down between his legs and wrapping it firmly around his cock. His eyes cracked open, fixed on the plain white ceiling above him as his breath came out between partially clenched teeth. No matter how many times he did this it always felt good. The pillow was cool against his cheek as his face rolled to the side, feeling a flush work its way across his nose, hot and pleasant. It intensified when his hand began to move, slowly, ever so slowly, up and down the shaft, running his index finger along the slit.

"Shit," he mumbled, spreading his shaking thighs a little wider, shivering again when a hard gust of wind blew his curtains across his body, silky smooth. "Kisuke…"

The blonde's hair was smooth to the touch, not as coarse as Ichigo would have imagined it to be. He loved the way it felt against his skin, sliding velvety across his neck and stomach, making him tug at the strands unconsciously. Even the pale blonde hair on Kisuke's arms was soft, satisfying to run your fingers across and press against. Without thinking, Ichigo found himself wondering if the nest of hair between the older man's legs would be similarly textured, grinning into the darkness of his room as the motions of his fist sped up against his aching erection.

He could picture himself kissing his way down Kisuke's belly, licking at the waistband of his pants and feeling the muscles clench up underneath his tongue. Ichigo couldn't imagine Urahara wearing underwear, so instead there was nothing beneath his fantasy lover's loose fitting pants, nothing between Ichigo and his exploration. The hair would obviously be wavy, light, the color of flax waving in the morning sunshine, a pale dusting of color between creamy thighs. He wanted to tug at it with his teeth, not too rough, just enough to see how much the older man could take before snapping and throwing Ichigo onto his back.

Ichigo's hand was twisting around his cock, his other fingers tightly in his mouth, sucking on them like he pictured himself doing to sensitive parts of Urahara's anatomy. He had absolutely no idea how to do it, but that didn't stop him from wanting to wrap his lips around Kisuke's length and make the older man writhe. After all this time the curiosity was killing him, the keen desire to map out his lover's body and claim every inch of it becoming overwhelmingly compulsive. Kisuke belonged to _him_, every subtle emotion was Ichigo's property, and he wanted the man's body to go along with it. Every lusty shudder, surprised gasp, impassioned cry…Ichigo wanted them _all_. He wanted to watch Urahara's carefully constructed mask crack and fall apart under the weight of their mutual desire.

He gasped as a thin trail of precum dripped down onto his fingers, trying desperately to keep any noises muted and controlled by biting down on his fingers until they nearly bled. Ichigo was surprised at his own possessiveness over the quiet blonde, at the greedy thoughts running through his head, but couldn't bring himself to care. Waves of pleasure were shooting up and down his nerves, setting his body on fire, making a thin layer of sweat break out all over his skin. He couldn't come yet though…he had something he wanted to try first.

Reluctantly Ichigo pulled his hand away from his cock and sat up a little, propping his shoulders against the pillows before nervously licking at suddenly dry lips. He'd never tried this before and wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. He knew the basic mechanics from books and things of course, but the reality of the situation was startlingly different. It didn't stop him from going forward however, his mind too cloudy with lust and his body to desperate for release and pleasure to be so easily dissuaded. He could do this…it wouldn't be so difficult.

Ichigo let his breath out slowly as he spread his legs wider, settling his ass more securely into the mattress. No big deal, this wasn't a big deal. He looked down between his thighs under the brim of Kisuke's hat, deciding it would make things easier to reach if he cocked his hips upwards just a few inches before coating his fingers with some lotion he kept in the drawer beside his bed. People did this all the time; it was nothing to be afraid of. He shook his hand a few times to steady it, reaching back behind his cock, sliding his fingertips downward and shivering at the strangely pleasant sensation. Ichigo could feel his cheeks heating up in embarrassment but pushed onward anyway, massaging at the small patch of skin he found there.

"Mmmhh," he groaned softly, surprised at how good it felt to run his fingers along the area. See…no big deal. He stilled when he reached his opening however, almost too scared to continue, gingerly fingering at the puckered skin while rallying his courage. This would happen eventually anyway, and it would make things easier for Kisuke if Ichigo weren't scared to death of what was going to happen next. Better he find out now what it felt like than to be completely shocked later and ruin the moment. Right? Do it!

"Holy fuck!" he slammed his hand over his mouth as he quickly shoved his middle finger into his ass up to the first knuckle, his body trying to force the intruder back out by contracting almost painfully around it. Ichigo's eyes were wide, head falling backwards to stare at the ceiling as he tried to take deep breaths to calm himself down. He'd read that the key was to relax, to force your muscles to unclench and allow yourself to be stretched out. There wouldn't be much point to quitting now; he'd just have to make it work.

Ichigo's eyes closed again, picturing Kisuke's face in his head, charcoal gray gaze set in shining white staring up at him from between his legs. The blonde would be so gentle, almost afraid to hurt him, his big hands squeezing at Ichigo's ass as the older man's mouth did wicked things to his cock. He could imagine Kisuke's fingers pushing slowly into his opening, breaking down all resistance, sliding slowly in and out, Ichigo's cock disappeared down his throat. He'd try to cry out but his Urahara's fingers would push abruptly between his lips, making Ichigo suck on them to alleviate some of the discomfort. A second finger added into his body, just a bit more pressure…

Without realizing it Ichigo had almost completely relaxed, his fingers (when had he added a second one?) pumping slowly into his body to match the sweet fantasy parading through his minds eye. The discomfort and dull sting remained, but there was a thrumming pleasure quickly building in his abdomen, an aching emptiness that he couldn't help but want filled. Kisuke's hat fell over one of his eyes as he pushed harder into himself, trying to twist the fingers to see what it would feel like…he knew that there was something he was supposed to be looking for…something that would feel good…

"Oh my god," he cried out as he brushed against…something. It was hard to get at this angle though, his hand was cramped in an odd position, but he had loved what he felt. His stomach muscles were clenching visibly with each thrust, his body rocking in steady waves as his fingers picked up a quicker pace, breathing becoming unsteady and shaky. He had to find that spot again, had to feel that monumental rush of ecstasy that came with it. "Come on, ohhh," he whimpered out, not caring if his father was standing right outside the door or not…if he was stupid enough to stay there after hearing this than he deserved the embarrassment.

Though his hand was in an almost painfully awkward position, he finally found it again, hips bucking upwards against his own hand when he pushed against what he guessed was his prostate. Fantastic. Absolute bliss. His head fell backwards with a loud moan, making Kisuke's hat fall precariously over his nose; the scent of the older man practically consuming him. Ichigo felt almost unbearably hard, his cock throbbing with each plunge of his fingers deep into his body, the desperate need finally making him give in and wrap his free hand around his erection. He tried to keep the two hands moving in sync, but everything felt too good and he knew he was failing.

"Kisuke," he groaned out hoarsely, slamming his fingers as hard as he could into his body, hearing the soft slap of skin against skin when he did. "Please, please," he began repeating as the pleasure began to peak, his hand frantically moving along his cock, brushing his thumb along the head, pushing into the slit almost roughly. He wanted more than this, wanted Kisuke inside him, knew it would finally satisfy the craving he couldn't fill himself, knew it would be the best he'd ever feel…

_"You're dying for it…aren't you Ichigo?"_

"Yes!" he cried out finally, back arching against his pillows, head thrashing to the side to bite down hard against the inside of his own cheek, tasting blood. The shudders vibrated their way through his limbs, his hand suddenly coated with sticky fluid, his lower body clenching tightly around his fingers. His breathing had ceased to function, heart pounding furiously against his chest as pleasure blossomed throughout every single one of his nerves. For a moment he almost felt as though he was going to black out, that he was surely going to pass out from lack of oxygen, but then the world began to trickle back into focus, the mind-numbing waves of pleasuring ebbing away to leave him completely limp against his sheets, hands falling from his tender flesh to lay near his head.

"Gods," he moaned quietly, opening his eyes to look down at the mess he'd made of himself. There were glistening smears of come all over his belly, sweat beading up on his thighs rolling uncomfortably down between legs littered with tiny little scrapes and scratches. Ichigo, feeling suddenly bold, ran his fingers through the thick substance puddled on his abdomen and brought it cautiously to his tongue, licking it delicately. It tasted…kind of bitter…sort of tart…not the most awful thing he'd ever put into his mouth. Not all together unpleasant. Doable.

Finding himself drifting closer and closer to sleep, he was nearly gone when a sharp breeze blew through his window, cascading across his sweaty skin and leaving him shivering with cold. He needed to get cleaned up and maybe then he could pass out for the night, allow his body to lie heavy and dreamless until morning came and he was forced to get out of bed.

Sleep in mind, he grabbed the fluffy black robe from the chair against his desk, pulling it around his naked body and opening his door with a quiet creak.

"What the hell?!" he cried, nearly tripping over an unconscious body near the door, jumping away with a look of absolute horror written across his face. "Goat-face?!"

And there was Kurosaki Isshin, sprawled out on his stomach, butt sticking high up in the air as he drooled all over himself, completely unconscious and looking as though he'd been struck on the head with a large, blunt object. Ichigo was about to wake him up when he heard a small cough come from the room down the hall, glancing up to see Karin with a wooden bat in her hand, a triumphant gleam in her eye.

"He was trying to listen in," she explained simply. "I thought you needed a little privacy to finish up your business. Just leave him there, it'll teach him a lesson."

And with that she shrugged and turned back towards her room, shutting the door quietly and leaving Ichigo alone in the darkened hallway. Seconds ticked by until finally the laughter started bubbling up in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes and strolling away from his father who was only now starting to stir into wakefulness.

"What did I doooooooo Karinnnnnn??"


	6. Passionfruit

**Grettings everyone! Long time no see! I bring you one MONSTER of a chapter. This baby topped 12k words! Woo! And...after teasing you all mercilessly, I am finally bringing you the lemon. Yep! LEMON TIME! With that, the usual warnings apply: oral, anal, toy play, yaoi, mansexing. Disclaimers also apply: both parties are legal blah blah blah and I'm making no money off of this blah blah blah. **

**On with the show?**

* * *

y (3x2 - 4)6

Kurosaki Ichigo stared numbly at the numbers and symbols written haphazardly on the paper, tapping his pencil against his bottom lip as though that might jump start his brain. When no neurons seemed to be immediately firing he looked down at the next problem, sighing softly in utter defeat. It was no use. From the moment he'd walked into Basic Calculus he had been doomed to failure. What was the point anyway? It wasn't as though he was ever going to have anything close to what most people would consider a "normal life". Things had changed too much, his perceptions were warped, and he just wasn't quite human enough. Calculus seemed like a colossal waste of time when he had damn near saved the world.

y e5x

"I think I've gone stupid," he mumbled to himself, looking over and tapping the glass of a fishbowl sitting nearby with his index finger. Inside a small blue beta fish glared at Ichigo's wiggling digit, swimming quickly up to the curved side of the bowl and furiously flaring its elaborate fins. It had been a present from Kisuke, dubbed Dandelion much to his dismay, since Ichigo was allergic to cats and didn't much care for dogs. The older man had thought the name hilarious upon presenting it, the amused twinkle in his gray eyes making Ichigo hate him…just a little. Of course he'd accepted the creature anyway, even though he'd wanted to hit Urahara upside the head at the time. It was a gift after all.

Waitaminute…Kisuke…Kisuke was a super-genius!

"Perfect!" Ichigo exclaimed suddenly, standing up so fast that he nearly knocked over the small bowl with its angry occupant. "I'll just have Kisuke do my homework for me!"

Well, maybe he wouldn't make the blonde do it _for_ him, but at least he wouldn't be struggling through the confusing equations all alone. Pleased with his own clever idea, Ichigo quickly began packing a few textbooks into his backpack, zipping it shut and slinging it over his shoulder before heading to the door. He paused for a moment in the hall, walking over to the angry beta and shaking a few fish flakes into the water. Ichigo grinned when the evil creature began greedily attacking them; Dandelion really was just about the most unpleasant aquatic animal ever.

A quiet breeze blew his hair back from his forehead as he walked down the street, the air smelling faintly of burning leaves and early autumn mums. Fall would have been his favorite season if not for the fact that he was inevitably forced to go back to school, diving once again into endless equations and mind-numbing term papers. It seemed strange to be ending his high school career after all this time, to be moving on from the only thing he'd known for years. Still, the change was a welcome one, as he could finally move on to bigger and better things…

He paused at the corner near Urahara's store, smiling as he watched Jinta chase Ururu around in endless circles with a rather large, slimy looking worm. The young girl was squealing with disgust, eventually becoming so distraught that she turned around and decked Jinta in the face, sending the boy flying across the lot to land at Ichigo's feet. The two of them looked at each other dumbly for a moment, Jinta finally jumping up and calling into the shop to alert Kisuke that company had arrived. Of course, that alert wasn't complete without mention of things like "boy-toy" and "snuggle-bunny", which instantly made a light blush rise up on Ichigo's cheeks. Damn brat.

"Is that my snuggle-bunny?!" Urahara crowed happily, practically jumping out of the front of the shop with his arms wide open. "I wasn't expecting you today!"

Ichigo raised his palm up slowly when Kisuke got close, slamming his entire hand over the blonde's face to keep him at arm's length. There was nothing in the world he hated more than being embarrassed in front of other people, and the pretend kissy noises his boyfriend was making were definitely enough to do just that. Why couldn't he have fallen in love with someone with few more inhibitions? A little more decorum? It wasn't as though he was asking a lot, just for Kisuke to not be so damn weird all the time. Then again…if he weren't so weird, he wouldn't be Urahara.

That would suck.

Kisuke chuckled softly at Ichigo's blushing cheeks, raising his fan up to blow a bit of cool air across younger man's face to ease the heat. He knew that Ichigo loathed being teased, but there was something about watching the play of emotions flash through those perfect brown eyes that he was unable to resist. It was just too much fun to push his buttons, though from the way Ichigo was glaring, Kisuke didn't think he wanted to press those buttons any further.

Glancing down, he caught sight of the blue book-bag dangling from Ichigo's hand, reaching down to take it out of his grasp and carry it into the shop. It wasn't unusual for the teenager to come to him for help with homework, though it didn't bode well for the rest of the year if Ichigo was already confused in the second week of the first quarter. The young man was not stupid (far from it actually), his skills simply didn't lend themselves to dull bookwork and excessively complex ideas like quadratic formulas. So unless he was going to be a rocket scientist or bioengineer, he'd never need the information…and he knew it.

"So what will it be today? Geometry? Algebra? Trigonometry?" He turned his head to look over his shoulder before sitting down at the living room table and settling on a fluffy green pillow. "If you say addition I'm going to send you home."

"Calculus," Ichigo answered mournfully, crossing his arms on the low table to snuggle his chin on top of them. The sight was instantly charming, making Kisuke smile despite himself at the small pout and woeful expression presented for his inspection. There was a time when he thought that the younger man was making those damn faces on purpose, but when he noticed that there seemed to be no premeditation behind the actions he remembered that Ichigo didn't tend to plan anything that far in advance. It was just his natural charisma, an inbred adorability, and Kisuke couldn't stop himself from leaning across the table and planting a quick kiss on the sulking lips. He made sure to keep it brief however, lest the innocent press of mouths quickly become more. Ichigo was hard to resist these days.

Without waiting further, he opened the calculus textbook laid in front of him on the table, suppressing the urge to giggle at how simplistic the problems were. They may have been child's play to him, but to someone who'd never seen them before they were a maze of numbers and symbols with no discernable exit. Snickering quietly, he looked at where Ichigo had scribbled what appeared to be dying stick figures near a few of the harder equations, one of them dangling sadly by his neck from the number "6". The massacre had eventually been erased, but not before Ichigo had written a few cuss words ending in multiple exclamation points at the corner of the page. How eloquent.

Kisuke crooked his finger towards the younger man, watching as he obediently came scooting around the table to sit what could have been considered unnecessarily close. It wasn't an unwelcome contact however, and he soon found himself easily giving into the spread of warmth at his side, nuzzling Ichigo's fluffy head that rested just beneath his chin. So tempting. Damn…they were never going to get anything accomplished at this rate! With that thought in mind Kisuke gently pushed Ichigo away, giving him an apologetic kiss on the temple before indicating with his gaze that they should probably get to work on the calculus. Ichigo sighed long-sufferingly, turning to him with big brown eyes full of disappointment, obviously hoping to delay the inevitable. But as cute as that was, Kisuke was determined to persevere. The redhead would be upset with himself later if they didn't get this finished.

"Work before pleasure," Kisuke tapped Ichigo's nose, thoroughly amused by the way his cheeks colored slightly and he looked away with an embarrassed scowl. Ah, the one-track mind of youth; it always tended to jump right into the gutter. Though he had to admit…any time they were alone he started to feel his libido shoot through the roof. Ichigo must have given off some irresistible hormone that's only purpose was to break down the human will to resist. "I didn't mean it that way," he murmured with a soft laugh.

Ichigo was too busy with grabbing up a stray pencil that had fallen onto the floor to respond, shuffling papers as he cleared his throat a few times and attempted to look serious. "I know, sorry," he said, rolling his eyes with a wave of his hand. "Okay, let's get this stupid shit over with before my brain leaks out of my ears."

They spent the next hour diligently struggling their way through problem after problem, explaining what Ichigo didn't understand and eventually closing the book all together when the assignment was complete. Once they'd gotten through the first few equations things seemed to have gone easier, proving once again that Ichigo was one of the fastest learners that Kisuke had ever met (not counting himself). There must have been some kind of mental sponge that soaked up all the information buried inside his spiky head.

Then again, it could have just been Urahara's amazing teaching techniques at work. He was tempted to lean in that direction if only to stroke his own massive ego…

Ichigo sighed heavily when he was finally able to slam the calculus book shut, feeling certain that he'd have nightmares about derivatives and slopes for weeks to come. It was nice to be finished though, and the way Kisuke was nibbling on his earlobe in "positive reinforcement" was even nicer. His skin broke out in goose bumps as teeth sunk into the soft flesh, his hand moving upwards to cradle the blonde head against his own. God that felt good. If this was the sort of reward he'd receive every time he finished his homework than he'd come over every day!

"Stop," Ichigo whispered as Kisuke's hand ran slowly up the inside of his shirt, the pad of his thumb brushing tantalizingly over his nipple. "There are people in the house other than us."

The teeth that had previously been working at his ear paused, a grin forming on the older man's lips that Ichigo could feel against his skin. Instantly, he was suspicious. That was the grin reserved almost exclusively for mischievous behavior and lecherous deeds; feeling it made the hair on the back of Ichigo's neck raise up in alarm. What, did Urahara think that they were going to make love on the tatami mats with Ururu and Jinta in the next room? Not that the idea didn't make his breath hitch with excitement (who knew he was such an exhibitionist?), but he didn't fancy the thought of being caught with his pants down. Literally.

"Not for long," came the sultry reply, Kisuke's voice full of some unnamable heat.

"Ururu! Jinta! Come here please!"

Ichigo pushed reluctantly away from Urahara's body, settling in a more appropriate spot across the table as he listened to the sound of small feet scampering towards them through the house. A moment later the door to the sitting room was pushed open and the two children in question came pouring in, followed closely by Tessai who was carrying a large tote that had tiny hot pink flowers all over it. Ichigo hoped, for the sake of the tall man's masculinity, that the purse did not belong to him.

"Yes Kisuke-san?" Ururu smiled, standing near the table with her hands behind her back. The girl looked as though she were going to a picnic, donned in a sundress made of a similar fabric to that of Tessai's purse and a floppy white hat that kept falling over her eye no matter how many times she pushed it up. All she needed was a little wicker basket and she'd be all set to frolic. "What did you need?"

Without answering, Kisuke reached into his green samue top and pulled out a long envelope, sliding it across the table towards the girl with a pleased smile. Ichigo cocked his head to the side, casting a curious glance at the blonde who merely grinned in response, making his suspicion only rise further. Whatever was in that plain white wrapper was obviously something good, because he could see the excitement in Kisuke's gray eyes rising the closer Ururu came to opening it. It was an infectious enthusiasm; Ichigo's own lips were pulling upwards in an eager smile.

"What is it?" Ururu asked, obviously confused. She turned the contents of the envelope over a few times in her hands, bringing it closer to her face for inspection as she slowly read. Tense moments passed until its identity was discerned, her eyes flying open wide in astonished happiness. "Really? Really?!"

Immediately Kisuke's arms were full of small girl babbling happily about always having wanted to go to Disneyland and how she couldn't believe how exciting it was to spend an entire long weekend in Tokyo and how she loved Kisuke so _so_ **so** much. Ichigo knew the feeling. This had to be, without doubt, the most animated he'd ever seen Ururu, and he watched her bounce ecstatically across the floor with wide eyes, laughing softly when she nearly tripped over one of the sitting pillows. He was still chuckling at her antics when he glanced towards Tessai, who was now carrying luggage (that seemed to appear out of no where) towards the door of the Shoten before coming back into the sitting room with a content smile. Wait…they were already packed? Wasn't this a spur of the moment thing? Ururu, in the meantime, had migrated over to hugging him; squeezing so hard Ichigo thought he might be choked at any moment by the girl's strong arms around his neck.

"When are we leaving?" Ururu eased her deathgrip on Ichigo's windpipe long enough to look across the table at Urahara.

"Why, right now!" Kisuke pointed upwards with a boisterous laugh, standing abruptly to usher the children towards the door. Before he could even get them halfway Jinta was already out the front of the shop, loading the car hastily and honking the horn a few times to express his impatience. Little brat. "I decided that you two kids needed a break this weekend and thought what better place to unwind and have fun than Disneyland! And of course Tessai-san was kind enough to offer to be your chaperone."

Ichigo blinked in disbelief, tempted to pinch himself; this had to be a very odd dream. It was all too convenient…something fishy was going on. And where there was dodgy behavior, there was almost always Urahara Kisuke.

Ichigo looked over his shoulder to the front door, just catching the devious wink Kisuke sent the silent man carrying Ururu's luggage. A wink? What was that about? Wait. Waitaminute! Kisuke had…planned this? How?! Ichigo had thought that his coming over had been completely random, but from the way the two men were acting they had been planning this all along! Mouth falling open, he stared somewhat dazedly at his self-satisfied boyfriend, hands flailing somewhat as he attempted to get his astonishment across. How did Urahara _do_ this sort of thing? More importantly…did this mean that the two of them were going to be…

"…are you sure you're going to be okay all alone this weekend Kisuke-san?" Ururu's voice echoed from the doorway, slightly drowned out by the incessant sound of the van's horn bouncing off the walls of the house. "You won't starve, will you?"

"Of course not Ururu," Urahara soothed, his tone somewhat impish. "I assure you I will have a very, _very_ pleasant weekend."

Heat rose up on Ichigo's cheeks at the implications of those well-chosen words, splaying his fingers against the surface of the table as he swallowed his heart back down into his ribcage. Kisuke _had_ said that he would find a way for them to be alone, hadn't he? Of course, Ichigo hadn't imagined it would be something like this. A hotel suite, renting a cottage somewhere, maybe a room by the ocean perhaps, but nothing like this. It was actually rather romantic to imagine making love in Kisuke's bedroom with the windows open and the moon shining in. Of course, that was dependant on whether or not they made it that far.

"Bye Kisuke-san! Don't burn the house down!"

"Have fun! Sayonara!"

With that the front door of the Shoten closed with a decisive click, the lock sliding into place soon afterwards. Ichigo's heart once again flew into his throat, his wide eyes staring straight ahead in something akin to terror as he heard the soft padding of Kisuke's feet across the floor. He had no idea why he was so scared, it wasn't as though Urahara was going to walk in and throw him on the table or something. And yet there was a nervousness fluttering through his veins that left him slightly shaky as the other man stepped back into the sitting room. He was ready for this…right? He'd been waiting for it for months, dreaming about it, waking up calling out the older man's name; it was time.

Yet he couldn't calm his nerves at all…some hero he was.

Warm arms enveloped his waist, making him jump in surprise. Ichigo had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he'd failed to notice when Kisuke pressed himself into his back, letting lips trail a delicate line up from his neck to his ear. The heat of Urahara's breath against his skin made him shiver, licking at his suddenly dry lips as they lingered in the embrace for a few moments. It felt so good to simply enjoy each other's presence; they hadn't had a chance to do this when he'd first arrived. It was such a humble pleasure; unassuming warmth in a chaotic world. Satisfying. He'd just let his head fall backwards onto Kisuke's shoulder when an object was dangled precariously in front of his face, a thin black device that he was having trouble identifying due to the odd angle.

Ah…a cell phone…

"Call your father and tell him you're spending the weekend with me," Kisuke demanded in a hushed whisper, his voice leaving no room for argument. Not that Ichigo would have protested anyway. Spending the entire weekend alone together sounded delicious. However, telling his father that he was going to be spending said weekend with his much older, much weirder, much more _experienced_ boyfriend was probably not going to go over well. He could smell a screaming match coming on.

"I don't think--," Ichigo began, only to be cut off by a sharp bite to his neck, ending all need for further discussion. That was all the persuasion he really needed.

He dialed the number with shaking fingers, bringing the phone up to his ear even as Kisuke lavished his neck with affectionate kisses. His breath was already coming more shallowly; he didn't know how he was going to get through the conversation without sounding like an idiot. So it was quite a relief to hear Karin's voice on the other end of the line, even though there were some strange scuffling sounds behind her that worried him a bit.

"Hey Karin, is goat-face around?"

_"Yeah, but he's busy at the moment, what did you need?_

Ichigo heard a loud muffled sound after her words, the scuffling becoming much more intense than it had previously been. It made Ichigo's eyebrow rise in confusion, glancing at Kisuke who had stopped kissing his skin long enough to listen in on the conversation with a conniving smile. Something was up, as usual.

"I just wanted to let him know I'd be away this weekend…staying with Urahara-san," Ichigo replied tentatively, narrowing his gaze towards the blonde who was now pushing his lips together to stifle his laughter. Ichigo would have questioned what was so hilarious, but there was suddenly a loud smacking sound on the phone, accompanied by Karin yelling at someone to stay still, that drew his attention. What the hell? He blinked stupidly at the phone, raising it back up to his ear almost fearfully.

_"Oh, okay! I'll let him know after he…gets out."_

"Gets out of what?"

_"You know…ropes. Bye Ichi-nii, have a good weekend!"_

With that the line went dead, Ichigo turning to Kisuke who was now sniggering outright, gray eyes twinkling gleefully. "Your doing?" Ichigo accused good-naturedly, waving the phone around a bit as he tried to keep a smile from splitting his face. It was no use though. Eventually he just gave up and let himself grin anyway, imagining his father hog-tied and lying under the kitchen table with a gag in his mouth.

"Hmmm…I wonder?" Kisuke responded with a pale raised eyebrow.

Kisuke shook his head amusedly as Ichigo put the phone down on the table, brown eyes looking at him expectantly. What…did he think they were going to do it now? They hadn't even eaten dinner yet! Of course the temptation was there to simply grab Ichigo by that gorgeous hair, throw him down on the tatami mats, and proceed to make him scream for hours…but he wasn't going to do that. Nope. Urahara Kisuke was a man of (at least some) class, and he wasn't going to indulge in all that soft tan skin until the moment was absolutely right. That and they wouldn't have much energy if they didn't eat at least a little something.

A little practicality was definitely in order.

"How about some dinner?" he stood up and smiled, looking down at the younger man who gave him a disappointed and slightly insecure frown in return. Understanding his bewilderment, Kisuke leaned over at the waist and tilted Ichigo's chin upwards, brushing their lips together chastely. "We have all night Ichigo," he murmured giving into temptation and nibbling at a plump bottom lip. "There's no rush."

A strange, unreadable sort of expression flickered through Ichigo's eyes, his fingers intertwining uneasily in his lap, until his gaze began to soften with appreciation and he accepted the hand that Kisuke offered to help him stand up. Urahara's judgment wasn't so clouded with lust that he failed to notice the subtle shaking of Ichigo's body, the nervousness that pulsed along his reiatsu in suffocating waves. There would be no point to making love to him now, his apprehension wouldn't allow him to enjoy it…and Kisuke very much wanted Ichigo to enjoy each moment without being too afraid to move.

Speaking of moving, if they ever wanted to eat something he needed to get dinner started…

For unknown reasons, Ichigo had always liked watching Kisuke cook, and tonight was no exception. The younger man had eagerly jumped up to sit on the counter when he'd started the meal, observing with interest as he threw ingredients into a large pot and turned up the heat. Somewhere between boil and simmer, Ichigo had abandoned his spot near the sink and wrapped arms around Kisuke's waist, strong fingers pulling off his haori to throw into a chair across the room. His hat was removed shortly thereafter and joined the haori before soft lips buried themselves securely in the dip between his neck and shoulder. Ichigo seemed content to simply lay against his skin, his breathing slow and even against Urahara's back, the whole scene between them taking on a picturesque feel.

"What are we having?" Ichigo began licking at his jugular vein, sending Kisuke's pulse skyrocketing as a slightly rough tongue explored his skin. For his own sake, Urahara hoped that Ichigo stopped that sooner rather than later. Otherwise they'd burn the house down while he bent the teenager over the kitchen table. Homelessness would be bad. "Looks like soup."

"That, my intrepid master of the obvious, is because it _is_ soup," he laughed, leaning away as Ichigo swatted at him playfully.

The sun was beginning to set, laying long shadows across the floor while they finished eating dinner. It had been spent almost exclusively in companionable silence, the only sounds their clinking glasses and the occasional small talk. Of course, there had been a few moments when Kisuke had been compelled to lean over the table and kiss at Ichigo's lips, but for the most part they'd been content to dine in peace. It was nice…the younger man was calmer now, his reiatsu sedate and easygoing, leaning back on the soft pillow underneath him as he raised his hands above is head in an obviously satisfied stretch. Much to Kisuke's delight, the motion exposed small patches of tight abdomen for his inspection, and he found himself leering at them far more than was absolutely necessary. But that belly belonged to him (along with the rest of that beautiful body) so he guessed it was all right to stare like the lecher he was.

"Tired already Kurosaki-kun?" he teased, pushing an empty tea cup at Ichigo before filling it with a strange, fruity tea he'd found a few weeks prior at an outdoor market.

"Nah." Ichigo stretched out his legs under the table, toes barely touching at the tops of Kisuke's bent knees. "Just relaxed. This is nice. We never get to be alone."

Oh yeah…they were alone. With no one expected to come home. With the house to themselves. With a clean set of sheets waiting for their arrival in the next room. Oh yeah.

"Mmmm," he agreed, licking at his lips somewhat nervously. Well…wasn't this strange. The atmosphere of the room was changing suddenly, like a thread had been woven between them and was being twisted into tighter and tighter knots the longer the seconds ticked on. Kisuke was, all at once, completely aware of Ichigo's body across the table from his own. Each detail of the young man seemed somehow in hyper focus, everything from the way his breath momentarily caught in his tanned throat to the trembling of his long fingers as they swirled around the rim of his teacup were sharp and concentrated to Kisuke's gaze. With one simple sentence the room's dynamic had altered entirely, and he was left knowing that if he was going to make a move…that this would probably be a good time…

"So," he started hesitantly, watching Ichigo's head snap up nervously, his brown eyes a little dark, a little emotional. He'd felt the change too, that much was obvious. "What other classes are you attending this year other than the dreaded calculus?"

Ichigo laughed softly, taking a sip of his tea. "Boring shit. English, chemistry, kanji…physics…"

"Physics?" Kisuke interrupted, raising a pale eyebrow. He smelled an opportunity. "I will have you know that I am quite the expert on physics. I invented my own branch of it nearly a hundred years ago."

"According to you, you're the expert on everything," Ichigo quipped back, crossing his arms with a small smirk. "So…go ahead…tell me about physics. I'm all ears."

"Well," Kisuke began, putting his finger up to his lips with a playful smile. He let his eyes sweep over Ichigo's body deliberately, making sure the younger man knew he was being admired. It was lovely to see Ichigo's breathing speed up in response, the first traces of understanding creeping into his amber gaze. This was going to be fun. "Seeing as how you're a novice to the concept, I'll start with the basics. One should always start with the fundamentals of any idea...or activity."

"The basics, huh?" Ichigo grinned, leaning forward on his elbows to place his chin securely in his palm, the definition of coy seduction. There was a growing heat in those eyes now, the beginnings of desire sparking right below the surface as a small blush blossomed on his cheeks. He knew exactly what he was doing, of that much Urahara was sure.

"Mmmhmmm." Kisuke was on the move now, rising up onto his hands and knees to crawl agonizingly slow around the table towards his prey, hair falling across his eyes as he surveyed his prize. At the same time Ichigo began rotating on his pillow, twisting his body until they were face to face, and Kisuke's line of sight was entirely filled with delicate brown eyes. It was a nice view. "And one of the first laws of physics is, of course, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Shall I demonstrate?"

"I'm pretty dense about these sorts of things." Ichigo breathed a little unsteadily, leaning upwards until their mouths were nearly touching. The young man's fingertips had found their way to the cleft of his upper lip, sliding against it in a way that made Kisuke's heart pound. "I think you'd better."

"My pleasure." Urahara grinned wickedly, dipping his head to run the tip of his nose from the bend of Ichigo's neck all the way up to whisper in his ear. "For example, when I caress you like that, my action will cause you to arch your body into my touch. Perhaps you might even pull me closer."

Without speaking Ichigo had done just that, fingers digging themselves into Kisuke's hair and giving it a gentle tug. Enlivened, he instantly latched teeth onto the redhead's earlobe, wanting to keep up their little game as long as possible before being swallowed whole by the desire bubbling in his veins. He didn't know how long he was going to be able to last however. This was harder than it looked, and the tiny sighs and gasps coming from Ichigo's perfect lips certainly weren't aiding in his attempts to keep himself together.

"So when I grabbed your hair like that," Ichigo grinned, the fingers of his free hand reaching out to dance up Kisuke's thigh, setting nails into his pants. Gods! He could imagine those nails digging into the skin of his back, his thighs, his ass, anywhere…just as long as Ichigo would be touching him. "Your reaction was to bite at my ear?"

"Precisely," came Urahara's throaty reply.

"I think I get the idea," Ichigo's eyelashes fluttered against his tan cheeks, fanning against his skin as he closed his eyes. "So…if I were to turn my head towards you right now…you'd probably kiss me. Am I right?"

Kisuke's mouth fell open, breath rushing out of his lungs in an excited stream to tease at the shell of Ichigo's ear. Those words. Those words completely did him in, smacked him in the proverbial face, set his thoughts on fire and threw away the water. This was it, no more playing, no more skirting around their mutual desire, no more games. He wanted Ichigo's kiss, he wanted his impassioned sighs, he wanted that sweet pink tongue in his mouth where he could suck on it.

"Give me your lips Ichigo."

The sound of Kisuke's voice, rough and low, sent shivers up Ichigo's spine, his emotions spiking sharply in his chest. Months of waiting and worrying and weighing the options vanished into thin air with the brush of the blonde's scratchy chin against his cheek, the warm press of their bodies. Now that the moment was here, it seemed to be the simplest thing in the entire world to turn his head and let their mouths meet. Of course, that would depend on whether or not he could move. He felt as though his neck were a little frozen in place, and it seemed like half an eternity before he was looking up into the soft greenish-gray gaze staring patiently back down at him…

But eventually he got it right, tilting his head up as his eyelids came down, letting their mouths come together in a kiss that was probably as close to perfect as the two of them were going to get. They were both too clumsy to ever have one of those breathtaking romance novel kisses with their hair blowing in the wind and the sun setting in the distance. Then again, that sounded pretty retarded when he really thought about it.

And right now he really didn't want to be thinking about anything other than how good this felt and how his skin was heating up under Urahara's fingers.

Ichigo had always been of the opinion that Kisuke's lips had to be amongst the softest in the entire world, perfectly formed so that they melted against his own with flawless precision. Granted, he didn't have a whole lot of experience with anyone else, but he didn't need it to know that this was probably the best he was ever going to feel. Why would he want to give it up for someone else? There was a bouncing electricity where their lips met, an instant fire that set every neuron in his body alight. No one else could ever come close; of that he was entirely sure.

He rose up on his knees, hands reaching down around Kisuke's neck to clench in the hair at the base of his scalp, pulling the taller body higher against him. In response, long arms reached around his waist, running up the back of his t-shirt before splayed fingers trailed back down, massaging each muscle in his spine as they did. Ichigo's reaction was instant, hands coming around to cup at Urahara's face and deepen the kiss, opening his mouth to allow the older man's tongue entrance. Even if they did this a million times it would never be enough, Ichigo would always be craving for it. If Kisuke had been a drug, surely he would have been an addict by now.

"Kisuke?" He opened his eyes and felt his brow come together. The question, though unspoken, was obvious. Was this it? Were they finally going to push past the barriers that had been holding them back all this time? No interruptions? Nothing to stop them? He probably would have killed someone if they'd come to the door right now, either that or simply had sex with them right at the door, inhibitions be damned

"No, we're not going to be disturbed tonight." Kisuke laughed softly, pushing Ichigo's hair back from his eyes with a playful wink. "Not unless you pass out or something."

"You think you're that good?" Ichigo leaned in, running the tip of his tongue along Urahara's bottom lip, grinning when the older man inhaled sharply.

"I know so."

"Well, like I said…I'm pretty dense. I'm gonna need a demonstration."

Before he could say anything else he'd been dragged somewhat roughly to his feet, large hands cupping at his ass as he was steered in the direction of Kisuke's bedroom. Their mouths met again somewhere in the hall, more heat this time, more tongues sliding somewhat desperately against one another. It was starting to get more painful to keep his legs together, the pleasurable pressure building so that he barely noticed when his shoulder blades scraped roughly against the outside of the bedroom door. It was nothing to him at this point; all he cared about was Kisuke's tongue teasing at the roof of his mouth, the quivering contractions of his abdomen, and the fingers that teased across the dip of his lower back to run into the waistband of his jeans.

Since Ichigo was the one closer to the door, he reached backward and slid the screen open, practically falling on his butt when Kisuke pushed him into the room. "A little overeager there aren't we?" he said between their lips, biting down gently on the older man's tongue before leaning away a few inches to smile up at him.

"If you saw how sexy you are right now," Kisuke purred into his ear, nuzzling at it in a way that made Ichigo cling to the green shirt in front of him, the fabric pulling apart under his urging so he could run fingertips along Urahara's chest. "You wouldn't ask such stupid questions."

The laughter that sprang up from Ichigo's mouth surprised even himself, a throaty sound full of dark promises that he wasn't entirely sure he could fulfill. But as he was pushed back to sit on the futon, a delicate cherry wood stand with a fluffy mattress, he decided he would give it his best shot and see what became of it. After all, he wasn't the only one who'd been dying for this moment, the man in front of him, gray eyes dark like storms in May, had also been waiting. Ichigo didn't think he could do anything to disappoint Kisuke tonight, which in turn gave him the confidence to simply let himself go.

The remnants of sunlight had almost faded completely from the sky, leaving the unlit bedroom cast in shadow and random streaks of illumination from a nearby streetlamp. Ichigo's eyes narrowed to catch what he could, but he soon found his eyebrows coming together in frustration. This wasn't going to work, much to his disappointment. He was still a little unsure of himself, and the thought of doing this in relative darkness had been appealing. Unfortunately however, it seemed that his insecurities were going to have to be pushed to the side, and with a steadying breath he reached over to the bedside table to turn on the lamp. Instantly the room was awash in soft yellow light, clinging to Kisuke's pale skin like liquid gold, leaving it almost glowing. Or that could have just been Ichigo's imagination. Either way it looked damn appealing. "I'm surprised you don't have any candles." He leaned back on his elbows, raising a playful eyebrow before spreading his legs in invitation. "I thought this was supposed to be romantic."

"I have some, they're just not lit. We'll do that next time."

With that Kisuke took a few steps away, turning around so that his back was to Ichigo and glanced over his shoulder with a shy smile. Shy? Kisuke? Amazing that the man could even pull it off! The motion was coy, but began to turn decidedly dirty when Kisuke started rolling his shoulders, letting his samue top fall to the floor in a forest green puddle. Wait…was Ichigo being given his first strip show?! His breaths began to come more shallowly as inch-by-inch Urahara's strong back was exposed, licking at his dry lips in an attempt to calm his raging nerves. Gorgeous. He couldn't pull his eyes away from the expanse of skin, the delicate lines of the older man's shoulder's, the way his spine was almost perfectly straight…he could see why people paid for this sort of thing. It was a shame he didn't have any money on him, because the way Kisuke was putting on a show was probably the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

"Should," he swallowed, trying desperately to control the tremble in his voice. "Should I be putting some money down your pants?"

"They won't be on long enough for you to worry about it." Kisuke came back towards the bed, pressing their mouths together and scooting Ichigo up towards the pillows. The older man had always had too many pillows, but Ichigo was grateful for them this time as he sunk down into their depths with the force of Kisuke's kiss. Growing desperate for unimpeded contact, Ichigo's fingers moved to the hem of his shirt, intent on pulling it off so that he could feel the blonde's skin against his own. He'd barely gotten it up two inches when long fingers on his wrist stopped him short, pushing his hands back onto the bed beside the pillows.

"Allow me." Kisuke smiled softly, reaching down under the futon. Ichigo's eyes followed his reach, confused for a moment before he realized what the blonde had pulled from below them. A small vibrator and a jar of some kind of strange colored gel were quickly deposited beside them on the bed, Ichigo glancing at Urahara nervously before looking back at the conspicuous items. He could only assume those were for him. "Those are for later, don't worry about them right now."

Ichigo couldn't help but think that might be hard to do until Kisuke's hands that had been kept mostly to himself went straight up his shirt, their lips finding one another again after the offending article of clothing was lifted over his head. Heat exploded in his skin when a blonde head dipped down and ran an experimental tongue over his right nipple, making Ichigo spread his legs further to allow more room for Kisuke to work as his breath came out in a deep sigh. The tongue didn't linger nearly long enough, causing a disapproving sound to bubble up from his throat that was met with a pleased chuckle from his lover.

He wasn't sure if he loved the sound of Urahara's amusement or hated it because it was keeping him from getting what he wanted…

"Who's overeager now?" Kisuke moved back up to Ichigo's mouth, letting his tongue slip in for a few breathless moments before pulling away again. The teenager's enthusiasm was positively catching, making him almost skip the foreplay all together and get down to the nitty gritty. Of course, he wasn't going to do that. Ichigo deserved everything he could give him, and that included attention from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. That and watching the youth squirm in delight was definitely something Urahara wanted to indulge in.

Without thought he plunged his nose into Ichigo's hair, breathing in the faint smell of almond as his hands roamed freely over his bare skin. Kisuke had long ago decided that he had never felt skin as soft as Ichigo's in his entire life, no matter how many people he had touched, no matter how pampered they had been. Hard training and the rigors of the sword hadn't marred the sweet perfection of the neck he now trailed his lips down or the supple texture of his inner arms. Kisuke licked at the bend of his elbow, setting teeth down into the sensitive crook until the redhead bucked upwards, looking down at him with dazed eyes.

"There's more to lovemaking than the obvious," Kisuke murmured, lips moving further down to pay special attention to Ichigo's wrists, kissing along the deep blue vein, before moving to suck one by one on his fingers. Ichigo moaned softly at that, turning his hand in Urahara's grasp and running his fingertip along the roof of his mouth. There was a flush creeping along his tan cheeks as he sat up slightly to watch Kisuke work, locking their gazes together as Urahara traveled further down the flat stomach to pause at the waistband of a pair of tight blue jeans.

Ichigo's gaze became a little unsure when Kisuke's tongue came out to tease at the button of his pants, fingers digging harshly into Urahara's hair when his cheek brushed firmly along the younger man's still-covered erection. He had the look of a drowning man, brown eyes glittering with barely suppressed desire, his breaths coming more and more shallowly with each passing moment. And Kisuke smirked up into that beautiful face, tugging the dark pants slowly down his legs, all the while his teeth and tongue were nibbling soft lines down his inner thighs. Every so often he'd nip a little harder at the fragile skin, watching as Ichigo fell backward onto the pillows, his adam's apple bobbing as he attempted to swallow. His attempts failed however when Urahara reached up to the waistband of his boxers, giving them an experimental tug just to get the young man's full attention.

"Kisuke?" Ichigo questioned from above, blinking down at him with wide, almost frightened eyes. Virginal. Deliciously inexperienced.

"Everything's all right." Kisuke smiled warmly, sliding the fabric (little penguins how adorable) in the same direction as the pants, allowing his palms to admire the solid muscles of Ichigo's thighs before depositing the undergarments onto the floor. Ichigo naked was…absolutely the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen, and he expressed that realization instantly by lavishing his body with further attention. Everything from the back of his knees to the (apparently ticklish) ankles received Kisuke's mouth until the redhead was quivering underneath him, soft moans filling the air with a sweet song and his tanned, flushed skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

"I…I," Ichigo stuttered somewhat unintelligibly, tugging at Kisuke's hair in an impatient way and spreading his legs more widely. Kisuke got the message loud and clear. _Stop teasing_. In all actuality, his own control was starting to unravel a little bit, the desire to take the redhead's length in his mouth and make him beg becoming an almost tangible thing. There was a possessive need rising up in his body, heat oozing from his every pore…and all he could think was how desperately he wanted a taste of Kurosaki Ichigo.

The flavor was tart, like straight pineapple juice, as he closed his mouth over the weeping tip of Ichigo's cock, grinning around the flesh when his actions were met with a loud round of cursing and moaning. His own cock twitched pleasurably when the fingers in his hair moved back up to their owner, one digging into orange locks and tugging painfully tight while the other was shoved into his open mouth and sucked on in a way that made every nerve in Urahara's body blaze to life. At that moment he could imagine what his own flesh would feel like in Ichigo's mouth, his own dick being consumed little by little into that wet heat, the way those brown eyes would look buried in his crotch. Each time Kisuke's nose would brush the curls at the base of Ichigo's cock, he would bite down on his fingers, moans becoming louder the faster Kisuke moved, a small trickle of blood dripping down towards his palm with each throaty exclamation of desire.

"Stop." Urahara pulled off the now steadily leaking dick to grab Ichigo's hand and wrench it from his mouth, slowly licking off the blood and pressing their lips together somewhat harshly. The taste of the blood seemed to affect the younger man, and before Kisuke knew what had happened a loud growl was vibrating through Ichigo's chest and he found himself laying on his back staring up at him. It was a welcome change…Ichigo looked gorgeous straddling his hips naked. "Well," he chuckled, reaching behind him to slap playfully at Ichigo's thigh. "I must say the view from the bottom is even better than I imagined it would be…"

"That so?" Ichigo was still breathing heavily, licking at his lips as his hands moved down to Kisuke's pants, pushing them down until his hipbones were completely exposed and traces of blonde pubic hair could be seen above the rim of the fabric. "You fantasized about me like this?"

"Absolutely." Kisuke's breath froze in his throat when Ichigo's hands dropped lower, pushing his loose samue pants completely off and exposing him to the cool air that was nearly painful against his burning skin. It was then that he noticed that he too was covered in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead and nearly blocking his view of the beautiful creature looking…somewhat confused…on top of his body. Unable to resist teasing him a bit, Kisuke snickered softly and raised a pale eyebrow. "What's wrong Ichi-chan? Got on top and now don't know what to do?"

"Shut up, you're not so unaffected," Ichigo replied, shifting his thighs slightly so that their cocks pushed against one another. Both of them hissed at the sensation, Ichigo leaning forward to nuzzle at the base of Urahara's throat that had been exposed when he pushed his head backwards into the pillow. Unable to stop his hands from moving, he found himself pulling rhythmically at Ichigo's hips to get more friction, rocking upwards into the heat to be found between the young man's legs.

He hadn't gotten very far when Ichigo began to go on the move, scooting farther down his body raining kisses and licks wherever he landed. It had been a long time since a lover had paid Kisuke's body this kind of tender attention, and he practically purred at the feeling of shy lips passing over his abdomen and the sensual feel of soft spiky hair brushing against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Of course, he might have liked Ichigo to go in for the kill so to speak, but the redhead seemed content avoiding that particular area of interest for the time being. And really? Kisuke wasn't all that interested in rushing him. The fact that Ichigo was even between his legs was a miracle unto itself.

Who would have thought that the prudish young man who blushed at the sight of any naked flesh would now be…holy shit…!

All coherent thought fled his mind when he felt sharp canines sink into his inner thigh, quickly going upwards and setting a dark mark into his hipbone. Marked. Though he tried to hold it in, he found it almost impossible to keep a small whimper from coming out, control slipping through his fingers for the briefest of moments as he almost violently flipped them over and bit down on Ichigo's bottom lip to make room for his tongue to plunge in. His fingers dug hard into the younger man's hips, drinking in the surprised moan from below when he scraped his nails down Ichigo's abdomen and tugged on the nest of orange hair between his legs. The redhead obviously hadn't been expecting such an enthusiastic response, but they didn't know each other as lovers so it was only normal that there would be a few surprises in store for the both of them.

Though Urahara had a feeling the bigger surprises would be more for his virginal lover than himself.

"Kisuke! God…that…," Ichigo gasped, tossing his head from side to side at the dual pleasure and pain of his pubic hair being so roughly handled. It was all so absolutely foreign, this electricity running through his veins, the feel of small, rolling waves lapping at the edge of every single one of his muscles, the pulse beneath his skin fluttering headily. A pulse that was rapidly speeding up as he was prompted to spread his legs wider for his blonde lover to move firmly in between, the silver vibrator that had been previously ignored held delicately in his hand. And the jar of lube was being unscrewed…and…and…oh holy shit…

This was happening…

"Smell? I made it for you." Kisuke lifted his fingers up to Ichigo's nose, smearing some lube directly onto the tip of it with a sensual laugh. To his surprise, the slick substance actually smelled pretty good, like soft orange blossoms or some kind of delicate musk. Nothing too fancy, nothing too potent. Just right. He'd kind of been expecting something that smelled like candy or some frou-frou shit like that. Ichigo smiled and reached down, putting his hand on the top of Kisuke's head and nodding shortly in silent assent.

Ichigo was certain that there had to be very few things in life that were as sexy as Urahara Kisuke sucking on a vibrator like a lollipop and staring at you like he wanted to fuck you through the floor. He watched, enraptured, as the thin silver toy disappeared repeatedly into the blonde's mouth, finally being removed with a wet pop and a trail of saliva from its shiny tip to Urahara's tongue. In fact, he was so enthralled with watching the dirty display, his cheeks feeling as though they had caught on fire, that he failed to notice the wandering hand getting closer and closer to his ass…until it was too late and…

"Whoa!" Ichigo jerked slightly backwards, scattering the pillows a bit as he felt a cool trail of goo slide down behind his balls, shivering when the hand paused in its exploration. Kisuke looked up at him, the question plainly written on his face, no words necessary to express his query.

_Should I stop?_

This wasn't a big deal, Ichigo thought…he'd done it to himself after all…but this was so different! There was a living, breathing, gorgeous man perched like some kind of sexual fantasy come to life between his thighs, touching him in his most intimate areas with skilled hands. Areas no one had ever seen except maybe his mother. It was exhilarating and frightening all at once, made his heart shudder to a screeching halt in his chest while he struggled to clear his rapidly fogging mind. Forcing himself to take a steadying breath, he looked down into Kisuke's concerned gray eyes and shook his head, reaching for the older man's hand to guide it closer to his entrance. "No…keep going. I'm okay."

Kisuke gave him a dubious look but continued anyway, finally rubbing his fingertip around the delicate skin of his hole while Ichigo sucked in his breath and held it tight, hands shooting into the sheets near his head to clutch them in a white knuckled grip. He knew he probably looked ridiculous holding his breath and quivering like a frightened two-year-old, but it was the only way he was keeping himself from jumping off the futon and running into the bathroom. That might have spoiled the mood.

The first few moments of Urahara's finger up inside his body were unsettling to say the least, but as soon as he started pumping it in and out the discomfort seemed to lessen. The pressure eased even more when Ichigo cocked his hips towards the intruding digit, dragging his hands over and over through Kisuke's soft, shaggy hair as another finger was added. Unable to retain eye contact with his lover, he turned his head and pushed his cheek into the pillow, savoring how cool it was against his skin as he panted breathlessly against the pillowcase. It was starting to sting a little, and the more Kisuke thrust in the more Ichigo writhed, thighs trembling with the need to have that spot hit…the need to feel those white-hot blasts of pleasure jump through every pore. He wanted it, why wasn't he getting it? Urahara had to know how to reach it…why was he teasing him?

Moaning loudly, his eyes shot open wide when he felt something metallic and cold push slowly into his body, sitting up rapidly on his elbows to stare down at the toy disappearing inside of him. It was bigger than two fingers, though not as big as the erection hanging thick and heavy between Kisuke's legs (intimidating to say the least), and he pulled the older man's mouth up to his own to try to distract himself from the growing burn. _Everything was all right, everything was all right, everything was all right…_

It took a few plunges before the vibrator was moving steadily, but once it was the pleasure quickly began to rise, overwhelming his senses before he even knew what was going on. He could barely perceive anything beyond the tingling feel of desire prickling along his skin, hardly felt it when Kisuke glided up his body until their erections slid against one another's in a way that made him moan the older man's name. His own voice sounded strange to him, distant to his ears as though it wasn't his voice at all. It was detached from him…

"That's right Ichi," Kisuke purred in his ear, voice low and full of gravel, tongue lapping out against his jaw line. "Scream for me…does it feel good?"

Ichigo nodded helplessly, arching up into the pale body above him as the vibrator was turned on and stroked at that spot…finally…all at the same time. A cry erupted from his lips, cock throbbing painfully as the area was repeatedly hit, Urahara's voice still whispering words of encouragement and adoration in his ear.

"Do you know how many times I fantasized about you?" Kisuke breathed, sucking on the base of Ichigo's neck. " How absolutely erotic you are right now? How many times I came in my own hand thinking about how you'd look when I fucked you?"

Ichigo _did_ know…because he'd felt the same way. Everything his imagination could have come up with did not compare to this moment, the overwhelming feel of having the person he loved most in the world focused on nothing but their mutual pleasure, the drowning lust racing through him like a drug. It was everything, and nothing, like he'd imagined it would be. Unique. Just like Kisuke. Flawless in its imperfection. Just like their relationship.

Ichigo reached down on pure instinct, wrapping his hand firmly around Kisuke's leaking cock to give it a not-so-gentle tug. He wanted it. Now. He was ready. No more waiting. He was dying for it. He didn't care if it hurt or not! Now! The older man shuddered and cursed quietly above him, the vibrator hesitating a little in Urahara's grasp. Using that as an opening, Ichigo reached over and dipped his fingers into the jar of lube, speedily moving it back to Kisuke's erection and smearing the slick substance over his skin with an impatient growl. With that out of the way he pulled their mouths together again, conveying without words what he desperately desired.

"Now," he gasped out, nodding as Kisuke pulled back with a half-feral look in his eyes. "Now?"

The moment Ichigo's hand had touched his cock, Kisuke knew his already severely frayed control was doomed. All his careful restrictions, all the locks he'd placed to keep his emotions in check, burst brutally open, and he was left with nothing but raw longing for the young man panting into his mouth and moaning into his ear. He pulled the vibrator, still on, from Ichigo's body, tossing it somewhere onto the floor with a noisy clatter. The redhead whimpered in disapproval, making Kisuke smile softly and regain a little bit of himself.

"If you thought that was good, having me inside you will be a hundred times better," he promised, rubbing soothing circles on Ichigo's flat belly. Leaning forward until their forehead's touched, he waited for Ichigo's gaze to meet his own before speaking again, failing to keep the excited quiver out of his voice. "How do you want it Ichigo?"

"Huh?" Ichigo answered somewhat unintelligibly, shaking his head even as his eyes glazed over further. "I don't…"

"On your back? On your belly?" Urahara kissed him again, rolling his tongue into the mouth below while grinding their erections together at a swiftly increasing rate. Ichigo's skin was becoming almost burning hot to the touch beneath his fingers, his tongue diving into Kisuke's mouth with growing urgency. Neither of them could wait much longer, that much was obvious. He pulled away from the kiss, completely breathless, with a frustrated growl. For all his bravado, for all his experience, for all his vaunted intelligence, he still didn't quite know how to proceed. He needed to hear it from Ichigo, needed to hear the words that would allow him to do what his body was screaming for. Kisuke had no idea why, but just this once, just this one time, he desperately needed permission. "Damn it Kurosaki Ichigo…tell me how you want me to fuck you!"

"Anyway you want! Just do it!" Ichigo cried out, wrapping his long arms around Kisuke's neck and burying his face in his neck. "Please…now…"

Not exactly what he'd been looking for, but good enough.  
Ignoring the surprised (and nervous) murmurs from Ichigo, he shifted their bodies until they were on their sides and he was behind the younger man, chest to his back, slowly drawing one tanned leg upwards by the back of his knee. Instantly he felt the redhead tense in his grasp, leaning down to rain calming kisses onto the side of his neck while prompting Ichigo to relax his muscles and let Kisuke hold the leg up on his own. After what had to be a full minute Ichigo did just that, the weight of his leg becoming heavier in Urahara's hand, allowing him to spread Ichigo's thighs further apart and position his cock where it needed to be.

"I love you Ichigo," Kisuke whispered into his ear, smiling when Ichigo laughed softly and let his face fall forward, hiding his expression almost completely from Urahara's view. "It's okay…you can hide for a little while…"

With that he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pushing past the first incredibly taut ring of muscle and into what had to be the tightest, most intensely hot body he'd ever felt. Beside him Ichigo hissed in pain, every limb shaking as Kisuke paused, trying desperately to catch his breath amidst the rush of unbelievable sensations. He hadn't expected it to be quite like this. Even in his fantasies he wouldn't have believed it to feel like this, and he bit his lip painfully to keep himself from pushing all the rest of the way in without regard for the younger man's physical well being.

"Come on," Ichigo squeezed out through clenched teeth, his orange hair falling into his face so that Urahara couldn't look over his shoulder and see his eyes. It didn't matter though, the order had been given and he was quick to obey, pushing in the rest of the way until he felt their hips hit one another.

"Oh gods," Kisuke groaned, feeling the muscles around his cock contract as Ichigo shifted his hips experimentally. It was almost too much. Even for him. All the months of waiting and fantasizing and wanting and pining had finally come down to this one moment and he was…completely blown away. He could barely breath, could barely think, could barely do anything other than hold onto the last shred of control that was held like a fragile string of spider web between his fingers. _He didn't want to hurt Ichigo…don't hurt Ichigo…don't hurt Ichi…don't hurt…_

Much to Kisuke's surprise (and delight), it was Ichigo that began to get impatient for movement, rocking his hips backwards in an attempt to gain the friction they both so desperately needed. It was…a welcome relief, and soon Kisuke was slowly pumping his hips to the rhythm that Ichigo had set, not going any faster than the younger man was comfortable with. It was an easy pace, steady and unhurried, but it was still movement, and it still felt like the most magnificent thing in the entire world.

Ichigo was moaning deep in his throat, arching his neck towards Kisuke's lips, and he greedily took advantage of the offer, sucking so hard that he left a deep pink mark in his wake on the flawless skin. Magnificent. Sweet submission. Deciding to take the reins a bit, he snapped his hips forward sharply, drawing a throaty cry from the other man that mingled with the sound of their sweaty skin slapping together. It was a delicious symphony, and it prompted Urahara to move a faster pace, heaving even more sounds from those perfect lips; cries of his name, curses, promises, everything he wanted to hear. Everything he'd imagined plus more. He didn't care about the slow pace anymore, his body was moving on pure instinct now, and from the way Ichigo was reaching back to hook his elbow around his neck and claw at his hair, he didn't really mind either.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ichigo repeated like a mantra, not knowing what he was saying or caring in the least. He was past that. He was past everything but the razor thin line of hedonism he now walked upon. It felt, with every push, like Kisuke was somehow getting deeper into his body, incredible waves of bliss driving him to the point where he didn't know if it was pleasure or pain coursing through his veins anymore…but he didn't want it to stop. That was all he knew. He just didn't want to stop.

"I want to see you," Kisuke moaned into Ichigo's ear, covering it with his tongue's attention, panting all manner of obscenities into the shell. At first Ichigo wasn't sure what he meant, he was having trouble thinking clearly, but then the realization dawned on him and he nodded dazedly, allowing himself to be pushed onto his back with the taller man instantly between his thighs.

Everything was different from his angle he noted, his legs were free to wrap around Kisuke's waist and control how far away he wanted to allow the blonde to be, his hands able to touch and feel at the older man's body. And he did just that, reaching up with his arms and legs to pull his lover closer, dragging him in for kisses that were more teeth and saliva than an actual pressing of lips, moans and sharp cries caught between their tongues as they rocked together. Kisuke's movements were taking on a note of urgency inside him, big hands lifting up Ichigo's ass to adjust the angle of his thrusts and…holy…shit…

"Kisuke! Gods…please, harder…again!" he heard himself begging, reaching up to rake his nails down the pale shoulders above him. Everything was slowing down, focusing, narrowing to nothing. Time itself could have stopped and he probably wouldn't have noticed, his attentions were fixated entirely on the man slamming forcefully into him, the scent of sex filling his nostrils, and the sound of Kisuke moaning somewhat raucously with each shallow breath that he took. Every thrust was hitting that spot, every thrust was making Ichigo get louder, see spots, feel his muscles contract, and he knew that if he didn't come soon he would probably die.

Or at least that's how it felt.

"Make me come, make me come, make me come!" He cried out, turning pleading eyes up to his lover who looked as though he was just about as close to the edge as Ichigo was, gray eyes partially hidden by the sweaty hair tangled against his forehead. Ichigo needed it, he had to have it, Kisuke had to be able to see how badly he needed it, he was going to die, he would die, he would _die_…

"Kisuke! Please…!" He cupped the taller man's face in his hands, instantly feeling a strong fist wrap around his cock and stroke it in a way that sent him flying towards his limit and almost over it, teetering so close, so close, so close, so close…

And then he was gone, head wrenching backwards into the pillow, Kisuke leaning forward to bite down hard at his neck as Ichigo emptied himself onto his own stomach with a cry loud enough that he heard his voice shudder and break. Nothing could compare to this, not a hundred bankai, not a thousand lost keys, not a million victories in battle…nothing. This had to be, without doubt, the best he'd felt in his entire life. He would have wanted it to go on forever…

But it was over too soon…

He came down from his high to the feeling of Kisuke still thrusting hard inside him and the older man's pale fingertips trailing through the sticky mess on his belly to shove them firmly into Ichigo's mouth. Ichigo eagerly sucked on the offering, his arousal rising again at the flavor of his own come, tangy and pungent on his tongue. Smirking over Kisuke's palm, he locked their gazes together and bit down hard on his fingers, watching the gray eyes widen and shimmer with some unknown emotion. Kisuke looked as though he'd been struck by a mack truck, his spine going rigid before burying his face into Ichigo's shoulder and letting loose a loud, strangled cry of his name. In response Ichigo tightened his arms and legs around the taller body, pulling Kisuke as close as he could manage while the blonde shuddered and jerked involuntarily against him, his muscles finally relaxing in Ichigo's grasp with a highly contented sigh.

"Ichigo…I…," he panted, collapsing on top of Ichigo's body and mashing their lips together somewhat clumsily.

"I know," Ichigo cut him off before he could stumble on any further, smiling up into the kiss with a soft chuckle. It was then that he noticed how badly his legs were shaking from the exertion of holding onto Kisuke's waist, and so he slowly allowed them to unclasp, falling gracelessly back onto the bed. Every muscle in his body was a little sore, and an ache was already building up at the base of his spine, but all in all he felt…fantastic. Content. Satiated. Satisfied. Relaxed. All that shit.

A gentle nuzzle at his neck prompted him to look over at his lover who was somewhat sleepily attempting to pull the covers up over their still-sweaty bodies before finally admitting defeat and burrowing deeper into Ichigo's side, muttering all manner of loving declarations into his skin. Ichigo reached out to trace the small smile on Kisuke's lips with his fingertips, feeling his body growing heavy with each passing moment as his mind thrummed peaceful and even. Apparently neither one of them were much for pillow talk, because before long Ichigo was nodding off, wrapping his arms securely around the blonde's waist after heaving the covers the rest of the way up. Immediately warmth surrounded him…and all he could feel was satiation…the luscious sensation of being loved…Kisuke…

There would be plenty of time for talking in the morning…

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Urahara Kisuke had never been the sort to wake up with the dawn, but the moment the sun's first pale rays shone through the window, his eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times to get rid of the goo. They were met with an unruly tuft of orange hair beneath his chin, Ichigo shifting in his slumber to get closer, their skin rubbing pleasantly against one another's. He was sleeping like the dead, mouth slightly open, tiny snores emanating through parted lips. It was instantly endearing, though the drool that had dripped onto Kisuke's chest was somewhat less so…but that was all right. Ichigo looked perfect so thoroughly mussed, and it took everything Kisuke had not to roll them over and dishevel him further, instead choosing to simply nuzzle at his temple.

"Mmmm?" Ichigo's cedar eyes opened with a smile, tilting his head up so that he could look up into Kisuke's face. For a few moments they stayed that way, smiling at each other like idiots and lacing their legs more firmly together, fingers tenderly tracing the planes they had mapped out the night before. It was a picturesque moment, the kind you remember in your old age and smile about, doomed to expire quickly. All too soon Ichigo was coming into full consciousness, and with lucidity came the slight frown that seemed to permanently etch his features, though they retained the relaxed, pleased quality that he'd been sleeping with before. Even Kurosaki Ichigo couldn't scowl after a night like that.

"Hungry," Ichigo murmured groggily, sitting up to allow the covers to fall around his waist and expose the gorgeous lines of muscle highlighted by budding morning light. Kisuke was staring blatantly (who wouldn't?) when the younger man glanced over his shoulder and raised an orange eyebrow mischievously. "You know, I didn't bring any spare clothes…we may have to lounge around naked all weekend."

"I would not protest." Kisuke smiled, shaking his head to dislodge some of his shaggy hair from his forehead. He actually felt a bit filthy, his skin still a little sticky and blotches of bodily fluid dried into itchy patches on unmentionable areas…he needed a shower. Mmmm…Ichigo in a shower...genius! He was about to suggest just that when his stomach growled low in his gut, drawing his attention down to his belly. "But first, let's get some food before I pass out."

Of course, Ichigo didn't wander around naked outside, so after scouring through Kisuke's closet (and a quick shower to wash off the dried come) he finally found a few items of clothing deemed acceptable to go out in public in. Granted, they'd had to find a belt to hold up the loose-fitting blue cargo pants, and the polo shirt was a little baggy, but all in all Ichigo was still the most gorgeous man Kisuke had ever seen. He even looked good shoving his mouth full of the sweet paste filled pancakes they'd gotten from a street vendor, a few crumbs sticking precariously his lips, small noises of approval coming from his throat.

It was in that moment, as Ichigo stared out across the river, chewing almost contemplatively, that Kisuke really got the full picture, the whole view, the entire tapestry. Maybe it was just "the morning after" influencing him a bit…but in that brief span of time, he would have sworn that he really _saw_ Ichigo. The scowl, the determination, the affection, the passion, the way his eyes sparkled when he knew he was right, the way his face fell when he was defeated, the way he looked in the seconds before their lips met and the soft glances he sent at Kisuke when he thought no one was looking. All of it. The moment was like a photograph in his mind, worth more than a million words; and it was sort of like seeing Ichigo for the first time, sort of like watching a brand new story unfold even though he'd witnessed it a hundred times. And Ichigo was the last missing puzzle piece in his life and the first piece of his new one, and he was perfect and flawed and broken and frustrating and everything Urahara had ever wanted and with a startled gasp Kisuke realized…

That he never wanted to be with anyone else.

"What's wrong?" Ichigo turned to him, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, cocking his head in a concerned way. "You okay?"

Kisuke nodded numbly, leaning forward to brush their lips together in spite of Ichigo's protests that they were in public. Urahara didn't care; he pressed their mouths together harder until the redhead's inhibitions were gone and they were flush together, pulling away fractionally to stare into amused brown eyes.

"What was that for?"

"I need a reason?" Kisuke responded with a wink. "You're mine after all. I can kiss you anytime I see fit."

"Yeah." The blush again. That incorrigible innocence.

"Ichigo?"

"Hmm?"

"What would your father say to you moving in with me?"

**I'm really sorry this took so long to get out guys. I hope this was worth the wait. Loves! Conjure...**


	7. Apple Parfait

**This originally started as a piece for an autumn community challenge, but I didn't get it finished in time. *pout* So, that said, I turned it into a sweet little interlude for _Sour Apple_! Also, it was brought to my attention that some of my readers don't know that _Easily Overlooked _is the companion piece to this storyline. It is also Uraichi and falls into the exact same plotline as this one...so now you know! On with the show? Yes.**

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In retrospect, the date would have been much more romantic if Ichigo hadn't been chasing a very large hollow around the palace grounds screaming. True, no one could really see him doing it, but that didn't stop Kisuke from staring in agonized amazement as his lover jumped from rooftop to rooftop, destroying things as he went. The imperial palace in Kyoto was more than a hundred years old! It almost wounded something inside of him when trees older than he was were slashed practically in half by Zangetsu's overeager blade.

Ichigo never had been very good at the concept of 'restraint'.

He grimaced when the hollow (that looked strangely like a deranged squid) collapsed into a pile and vanished into thin air, leaving a massive stretch of broken tree limbs in its wake. What a mess. The creator of said mess landed shortly there afterwards, looking rather pleased with himself as he jogged up to where Kisuke was sitting nestled in between a few of the more robust trees. Urahara had found the spot at the beginning of the scuffle, deeming it safe enough for his purposes and relaxing surrounded on all sides by brilliant burgundy leaves. The perfect place to watch mindless destruction.

Autumn had always been Kisuke's favorite season, the world around him catching fire in a blaze of golds, ambers, and crimsons. There was something bittersweet about watching the vivacity of the flora dying away, leaving them for another season, making way for the snow and ice that would surely be coming. And yet, even though deadly winter was right around the corner, one couldn't help but sense the romance and allure hanging heavy in the air, pleasant ardor. It's what had prompted him to bring Ichigo out with him today, to cast aside their responsibilities for a little while and enjoy the ambiance.

Or at least that's what he'd been trying to do before that damnable deputy badge had started hollering. What a pain…

"Where were we?" Ichigo sat down next to him and smirked, leaning in to nuzzle affectionately at Kisuke's throat. "I seem to remember you saying something about throwing me into the leaves and having your way with me?"

Kisuke laughed softly at that, pushing Ichigo back by his face and raising an eyebrow mischievously. Well, well, someone was feeling lusty. Unsurprising, seeing as how the younger man had turned into quite the little nymphomaniac since their first time together a few weeks prior, easily falling into the role of lover and all around sex symbol. Not that he hadn't been sexy before, but there was something almost inherently sinful about how desirable Ichigo was now that he was a sexual being.

And really…that suited Kisuke just fine…he wasn't one to resist such a luscious morsel anyway.

"I don't recall. Did I?" He promptly stood up and picked up the large bento box he'd wrapped up in a blanket, gesturing with his head for Ichigo to follow him. "Besides, we have to go collect your body before someone finds it and calls an ambulance. Unless you want to be forced to break into the morgue…again."

Ichigo's face became a mask of disgust, shaking his head emphatically before catching up to him and lacing their fingers together. "Gods, no! We almost got arrested last time!"

They walked in companionable silence for many minutes, the smells and sights of autumn parading all around them. There was the faintest hint of burning leaves somewhere far off in the distance, drifting across their faces in the breeze to mix with the soft scent of damp earth below their feet. Dozens of maple seeds rained down upon them like tiny helicopters as the wind picked up a little more, and Kisuke had to take his hat off and shake it around a little bit to dislodge them from the brim.

"Kisuke?" Ichigo fell back into his physical body and sat up, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his chin upon them. "What are we going to tell my dad? You know, about my moving in with you."

"Isshin?" Kisuke flinched, biting down on his bottom lip nervously, struggling to find an answer. It was the same reaction he had nearly every time he thought on what they would say to Isshin about Ichigo's moving away from home, the same helpless frustration. So far, nothing he could think of was going to prevent the eventual explosion of rage Urahara knew would be coming. It wasn't that Isshin didn't approve of their relationship, but dating was one thing…moving in together was an entirely different ball of wax. "I'm…not sure yet Ichigo."

"Well we have to say _something_," Ichigo stood up and brushed his pants off, crossing his arms over his chest somewhat petulantly. "It's a pain in the ass hauling my butt from the Shoten to home six nights a week."

Grinning, Kisuke brushed his shoulder against Ichigo's, running the tip of his nose along the younger man's ear before nibbling it gently. "Awww…is that the only reason?"

Ichigo pushed him away with a playful smile, orange eyebrows raised up amusedly. "Yes. It's solely for my convenience."

"You wound me my love."

More silence as they attempted to find a suitable place to relax, both of them wanting to be as far away from the rest of the population as possible. Between Ichigo's wild orange hair and Kisuke's rather odd choice of clothing, it was difficult to be out in public without attracting unwanted attention. Not to mention the fact that they tended to talk about things that were considered to be insane should someone overhear them. Oh, and add to that the tiny detail that they were two men of obviously different ages in a romantic relationship, and you had quite a pair of conspicuous people indeed…

Naturally, neither of them really enjoyed the interest, especially when all they wanted to do was have some privacy to indulge in a bit of alone time with each other. Kisuke had occasionally caught Ichigo glancing at normal couples longingly, knowing that the redhead was wishing that their own relationship could be brought out more fully into the open. To stop hiding it so much. It hurt something inside of him to know that there was nothing he could do about the unfairness of it all, nothing he could say to make society view them more charitably, no weapon in his arsenal great enough to break through the barriers they faced as a pair. All Urahara could do was make Ichigo as comfortable with their love affair as he could, to help him grow past the prejudices of others enough so that the stares no longer mattered.

It was, of course, not the easiest task in the world; Ichigo was only seventeen after all…

"How's that spot?" Kisuke pointed down towards a small lake, away from most of the tourists and almost completely secluded. Without waiting for Ichigo's answer, he tugged gently on his hand, treading carefully down a steep hill to an embankment at the water's edge. The trees hung heavy here, their long branches supporting the weight of hundreds of dying crimson leaves that drifted down towards the placid water below in the rushing breeze. They crunched and scattered as Kisuke spread the fluffy tan blanket across them, tossing his hat onto the ground and flopping down on his back, arms wide open to the young man above him. "Come here Ichigo."

Glancing behind to make sure no one was around; Ichigo eventually complied, sliding over Kisuke to rest almost fully upon his body. Their mouths met soon afterward, Urahara's knee rising between Ichigo's legs to lift him up and rub against his groin, their soft gasps permeating the quiet autumn air. Truthfully, Kisuke wouldn't have even noticed if another person came by, so enraptured was he with the feel of his coy lover's soft lips brushing smoothly along his own. Granted if someone had started screaming and hollering he might have noticed, but as it stood his attention was focused entirely on Kurosaki Ichigo.

"I thought we were going to eat," Ichigo said breathily, pulling away to roll off Kisuke's body towards the bento box. "What did you pack?"

"Um," Kisuke twirled his fingers, embarrassed. "I have no idea."

"You are such a slacker, Urahara Kisuke."

Three ham and cheese omelet slices, two onigiri, and an apple later, Ichigo was happily laying on his stomach, practically purring in contentment. Kisuke was on his back nearby, perpendicular to the younger man so that he could rest his head in the subtle curve of Ichigo's lower back. The trees above him cast shadows across his face, the sky a perfect blue peeking through the spaces between the deep scarlet leaves. It couldn't have been a more perfect day, save for the nibbling worry floating through his mind. Dammit, could he never have a peaceful moment?

Maybe it _wasn't_ such a good idea to have Ichigo move in with him. After all, it wasn't as though the two of them were going to leave each other, it wasn't as though anything was going to change between them…right? There really wasn't any need to jump into living together so soon (okay, so they'd been dating for more than a year), especially since Ichigo wasn't even out of high school yet. Was it even fair to ask him to leave his family at such a young age to live with his much older lover? Was that really something Ichigo wanted to do? He said he did but…

Then again, it could have been the thought of facing Isshin with such a life-altering request that was to blame for Kisuke's sudden lack of confidence. Mental pictures of the elder Kurosaki chasing him around with blunt objects flashed through his mind, making him cringe in what could only be described as blatant terror. Nothing was more frightening than an overprotective father, and the thought of Isshin's "#1 Dad" mode was easily enough to send him into fits of nausea.

"I can tell you're worried about something." Ichigo's quiet voice cut through Kisuke's internal ramblings, making him blink and turn towards the brown eyes that were now focused upon him. "Spill. What's wrong?"

Feeling his stomach flip at the whispered words, Urahara sat up and glanced over at Ichigo, his heartbeat fluttering nervously in his chest. The younger man had turned onto his back, head cocked questioningly to the side, eyes narrowed and searching. Kisuke found himself pinned beneath that stare, barely able to maintain eye contact in the face of such scrutiny. He hadn't felt this way since he was a boy…only Ichigo was capable of turning him into a hesitant youngling with merely a glance.

Shoulders slumping with resignation, he finally spoke, his voice sounding pathetic even to his own ears. "I don't know that you moving in with me right now is such a good idea."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Ichigo sat up abruptly, crawling closer so that their faces were within inches of touching. His long fingers reached out to brush at Urahara's cheek, trailing down to his neck to rest on his shoulder and keep their eyes connected. "Where is this coming from Kisuke?"

Ichigo's parted lips were warm and trembling slightly as Kisuke brushed them with his own, leaning back to smile sadly. "It isn't that I don't want you to, but…this is going to cause problems with your family and I won't have that. Maybe…maybe we should wait until after your Seijin Shiki, or at least until you're done with high school…"

"Shut up," came the cutting reply, Ichigo's finger pointing straight at his nose. "I'll do what I want."

"But, Ichigo…"

"No!" A hand came out to push Kisuke roughly onto his back, Ichigo coming to straddle his waist quickly and pin him to the ground with legs and arms. Under other circumstances the position might have been highly erotic, but as it stood it only served to make Kisuke squirm in frustration and look away in confusion.

"Are you not getting it?" Ichigo's voice was calm and even now, leaning down to glare at Kisuke from unyielding brown eyes. "I want to be with you all the time. Every morning. Every night. As often as humanly possible. Why should I wait?"

"Because you're only seventeen goddamn years old!" Kisuke bit back in a rare display of annoyance, his usually calm voice stinging. "Your father is never going to allow it."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Ichigo asked incredulously, laughing gently before brushing his lips across Kisuke's forehead. "Geta-boshi…my dad's going to pitch a fit about this, no doubt about it, but he'd do that even if I was forty!"

Wait…what?

Suddenly the image of Kurosaki Isshin locking his forty-year-old son in his room went prancing through Urahara's head, soft chuckles working their way from the pit of his stomach to burst from his mouth. Ichigo responded in kind, the teenager's pleased laughter making Kisuke's heart squeeze hotly in his chest, the sound so uncommon that it seemed precious and beautiful. Leaning up, he licked a clean line along Ichigo's lips, setting his teeth into the younger man's cheek to worry it gently.

"Ew! " Ichigo squirmed away from his mouth, rubbing the back of his hand across his face to get rid of the saliva. "You chewed me!"

"Like saltwater taffy without the cavities." He reached up to pull Ichigo closer, rolling them onto their sides so he could bury his face in the young man's strong shoulder, breathing in deeply to calm his nerves. Ichigo somehow managed to always smell clean and erotic conjointly, his skin almost burning hot to the touch, feeling of the finest velvet. The scent eased Kisuke's anxieties, reminded him why he wanted Ichigo with him so very badly, why he was willing to go into the lions den to keep them together. He'd do anything for this exquisite creature in his arms…anything.

"You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely," Ichigo responded without the slightest hesitation, eyes becoming very serious. "Besides…I'm seventeen. I can live with whoever I want!"

"Such a rebel." Kisuke grinned, wrapping his arms around the boy's slim frame and dragging him into the sitting position, settling them both against a tree with Ichigo firmly in his lap. The wind picked back up around them, red leaves drizzling down on their heads as they rubbed their cheeks together slowly, neither one speaking, neither one moving. Kisuke wasn't certain when, but somewhere along the way he'd conceded to Ichigo's desires, finding himself more than willing to face Isshin's anger on his lover's behalf. Ichigo's willpower was hard to resist…not that he wanted to. Making love whenever and wherever they wanted sounded pretty inviting, even if he'd never get any work done in his lab with the promise of sex around every corner. Oh the torture.

"I'm still not sure what we're going to actually tell him," Kisuke murmured sleepily, leaning his head back against the rough bark of the tree to observe Ichigo's reaction. The younger man paused for a moment, seeming to think it over, before finally shrugging lightly and grinning.

"Well," he began, tongue dipping out to play at Kisuke's jugular vein teasingly. "We could tell him that we want to make sweet, sweet love all over the house, every day, on every available surface, and we can't do that with me living at home?"

"I'm sure he'd love that," Kisuke gasped, feeling Ichigo's canine dig into his skin, drawing the tiniest amount of blood before his tongue greedily lapped it up. Strangely savage. Glancing down, Urahara's mouth fell open slightly as he watched a hint of black trickle across the white of Ichigo's cornea like oil on the surface of the sea, spreading like paint before being sucked back up. "Ichigo," he whispered, reaching forward to grab the young man's chin between his fingers and lock their gazes together. "What was that just now?"

"Oh that?" Ichigo laughed, turning his head to kiss at Kisuke's fingers. "It happens sometimes; don't worry about it. He's under control."

"He?"

"Shirosaki. I think he's curious about you." The answer came with an air of obviousness and a shrug of Ichigo's shoulders, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if Kisuke himself weren't fully responsible for the creature living inside of him. As if it didn't matter. Of course, it did matter, especially to Urahara, who felt a pang of intense guilt rush through his belly and crush his heart upon looking at Ichigo's unconcerned face.

"The feeling is mutual." Deciding to change the subject (and store the previous information for later use) Urahara pulled their lips together again, spreading Ichigo's thighs so that they straddled his hips. Though hesitant at first, the redhead quickly gave into the exchange, taking Kisuke's hands in his own and guiding them to his ass with a low groan. Absolutely perfect. This was highly preferable to talking about Isshin or inner hollows, though the discussion about Ichigo's eventual departure from his house was still something that needed further dialogue. More the pity.

Giving Ichigo's cheeks a firm squeeze, Kisuke pulled away reluctantly. "What would you say to having Isshin over for dinner at the Shoten? We could spring the idea after wooing him with exotic dishes and expensive sake."

Chiming in, Ichigo's face lit up. "Or we could drug him and lock him in the closet until he agrees to our demands! Diplomacy at its best!"

"You really are lacking in tact, tanpopo." Kisuke kissed at the corner of Ichigo's falling lips, grinning when the young man practically pouted, positively charming. Granted, he probably had no idea he was being this adorable, but Urahara was loath to tell him lest he stop doing so. "We'll try that _only_ if all else fails. Deal?"

"Deal."

The bargain was sealed with a kiss that quickly turned into a snogging session, the date regaining its air of romance much to Kisuke's delight. The smell of Ichigo's almond shampoo intertwined with the growing scent of autumn mums drifting through the air, drowning him in sensation, warm and alluring. And he allowed himself to sink into the pleasure until he forgot about Isshin and his scalpels, forgot about the inner hollow lurking just beyond the edge of his lover's brown eyes, forgot about everything that didn't pertain to the precise moment in which he was engaged. He was completely enraptured by Ichigo's commanding presence, pleased to be so thoroughly entrenched in emotion and physical feeling rather than in the mental puzzles he usually found himself fixated on.

And as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of Ichigo's shirt to lap at his soft skin, Urahara realized that that was the beauty of their relationship…to have balance for once. To have equilibrium. An even scale in a world that was usually so lopsided.

Though if Isshin had anything to say about it, Kisuke might very well lose his head (which one was yet to be seen)…and a lack of cranium would most definitely throw off his sense of balance.

Ah well…he could always build himself another.

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**Oh, and before I forget! I wanted to give all of you a great big THANK YOU for always being so positive and encouraging about my stories. You all make me feel like a million bucks every time I post and I'm really grateful for that. Thanks again.**


	8. It's Cold Outside: A Christmas Special

**Happy Holidays Everyone! I usually don't update Sour Apple with such a small chapter, but I wanted to give you all something for Christmas! This piece is inspired by the christmas song "Baby, It's Cold Outside", and I think it fit this pairing almost too perfectly. So, as short as this is, I hope you enjoy it. Be well good readers, and I will see you all with a great big chapter in the new year!**

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The remnants of a slightly deformed snow angel was being slowly filled by the torrential snow falling from the sky, covering the front lot of the Urahara Shoten with a blanket of pristine white. Two pairs of boots were sitting haphazardly in the front entryway, puddles of water pooling beneath them as the snow melted off the tread of the soles. Above them hung two damp coats, each one mottled with spots of water, their sleeves hanging heavy and wet towards the floor. A path of droplets trailed into the main part of the Shoten, leading into the room that housed Urahara's irori, dozens of multicolored pillows strewn around the sunken hearth set in the center of the room.

"I really can't stay." Ichigo looked down at his half-full cup of hot chocolate with a forlorn expression before glancing over at Kisuke who was poking at the fire with a soft smile on his face. Ichigo's original intention had simply been to come over for a little while and enjoy the light snowfall, but after the storm had started to get worse (and they'd engaged in a bit of impromptu snowplay) he'd found himself a willing captive in his lover's house. So far he'd attempted to leave three times, and three times he'd been unceremoniously dragged back into the house and seduced into submission. Damn teenage hormones.

"Why ever not?" Kisuke glanced upwards, his smile faltering slightly before falling back into place. "It's cold outside. You shouldn't be traipsing around in the snow."

"You didn't have a problem with tackling me into that snow a while ago." Ichigo's eyebrow rose mockingly, holding his now-empty cup out to be refilled and wiggling it around a bit to get his point across. When it was pulled from his fingers he curled up into a few of the pillows around him, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of warm air to hold it in his lungs. He really needed to get his wits about him and find a way to get out of Kisuke's house before his entire family gathered a search party to look for him. "Goat-face is probably pacing the floor by now. I told him I'd only be gone a few hours."

"Come now, Ichigo." Kisuke's voice was getting closer, making Ichigo's skin tingle satisfyingly at his approach. Calm for the first time in days, he snuggled his face further into the cushions, pulling his long legs up towards his body even as he felt Urahara crouch down nearby. "Isshin-san wouldn't want you to die out in that blizzard. He'll completely understand! Stay the night."

Ichigo sat up abruptly, nearly knocking foreheads with Kisuke who was setting down a steaming cup of cocoa in front of Ichigo on the tatami mat. Glancing downward, Ichigo took the mug in his hands and sipped at it before he realized what he'd done, smiling when the heat of the drink hit his stomach pleasantly. What was in this stuff? It tasted good…but odd. Sort of minty. "I can't. My sister will be suspicious, and you know how Yuzu gets when she thinks I'm in some kind of trouble."

"I must admit you do tend to get into more trouble when you're around me," Kisuke murmured, sidling up beside him until their shoulders pressed against one another's, a line of heat building where they connected. The older man's arm slid gently around Ichigo's waist, drawing them closer and burying his nose into the crown of Ichigo's head. "Your hair smells good. Did you get a new shampoo?"

"Don't try to change the subject," Ichigo chided, elbowing Kisuke's stomach playfully. "What's in this drink anyway? You didn't drug me again, did you?"

Urahara sighed dramatically, leaning away and looking up towards the ceiling with a longsuffering look on his face. "Drug them once to keep them from fighting a super villain and they never let you forget it!"

"I didn't need your help!"

"Ah, but I had more of a long standing dispute with him than you. Shinji-san and I were fine without your assistance, thank you very much."

"I guess," Ichigo said, leaning his head against Kisuke's shoulder. For a few moments neither man spoke, the soft crackling of the fire in the irori the only sound in the winter hush. Ichigo's skin was pleasingly hot, his mind drifting peacefully as Urahara's fingers drew nonsense patterns on his sides, lulling him into almost dozing. He really couldn't stay though. It simply wasn't possible tonight, no matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise. He had things to do in the morning, places to go, promises to keep, hollows to slay…the list went on and on. "I ought to say no."

"What's the sense in hurting my pride Kurosaki-kun? You want to stay. I want you to stay. It's cold outside…just say yes."

Shaking his head, Ichigo pulled reluctantly away from his lover's warmth and stood up, making his way towards the entryway and ignoring Kisuke's instant protests. He'd barely gotten his arms into his coat when he was being tugged backwards into Urahara's chest, arms wrapping around his torso to play at his abdomen. Sighing in affectionate annoyance, Ichigo leaned back and softly butted the back of his head against Kisuke's nose, taking the momentary lapse in the other man's concentration to get away from the embrace. Turning around, he crossed his arms over his chest and tried as hard as he could to be firm in his decision to leave, no matter how somewhat-adorable his lover was being. He had to go home! There had to be almost a foot of snow outside!

"The answer is no." He reached for his earmuffs, pulling them around his head to situate it. "It's been a really nice night, and you've been really great. But I have to go home."

"I absolutely cannot accept your response." Kisuke leaned inward, pulling Ichigo's earmuff off one ear and licking slowly at the shell, sending delicious shivers along his skin. The blonde's lips brushed tantalizingly at his earlobe as he whispered. "It's intolerable. It's cruel. And I will continue to persuade you until you give me a proper reply."

The sound of his coat falling around his feet drew Ichigo's attention to the fact that he was no longer wearing it, his earmuffs joining it on the floor a few seconds later. Urahara's lips were unrelenting against his neck, mapping out the sensitive points with his tongue and grazing them with his teeth while he herded the two of them back towards the irori. Ichigo barely felt it when he was shifted down into the pillows again, Kisuke's lips having moved from his neck up for a kiss, tongue dipping between Ichigo's teeth to tease at the roof of his mouth. Hadn't he been trying to leave though? Wasn't his self-control a little better than this? Dammit…apparently not…

"Kisuke, you don't play fair," Ichigo gasped, turning his head to the side to gaze out the window as impassioned kisses were rained on the side of his face and down his jawline. The snow was still falling heavily outside the Shoten, piling up on the ledge of the window frame and sticking in large clumps to the streets outside. It really _did_ look terrible out there, didn't it? "You're going to get me into trouble."

Long, pale fingers took his chin in their grasp, turning his eyes to meet Urahara's that were staring beseechingly down at him. Ichigo squirmed beneath that gaze, shifting almost guiltily as their noses were rubbed together tenderly, blushing despite himself as Kisuke's free hand caressed underneath his shirt to heat the sensitive skin of his belly. In return, Ichigo reached upwards, running his palms up beneath the back of the blonde's shirt to dance along the ridges of his spine. Kisuke shivered visibly in response, his fingers becoming more insistent against Ichigo's skin, moving further upward to flick a nipple with utmost delicacy.

Ichigo's head fell back, a soft groan worming its way from his throat before he craned his neck to watch his lover's lips suckling softly at his exposed collarbone. There was almost no getting out of it now, no way to talk his way out of curling up for the night in Kisuke's soft bed, perfectly sated after a evening of…not so innocent activities. Not that he really wanted to leave in the first place, but at least Ichigo had the satisfaction of knowing that he _tried_ to do the right thing and not worry his family sick.

His thoughts became muddled when their lips met again, Kisuke murmuring sweet nothings into his mouth, promises of the night to come. What had he been thinking about again? He couldn't remember. Pulling apart for air, Ichigo watched enraptured as Urahara's eyes narrowed with purpose, his voice coming out husky and seductive, making Ichigo's thighs widen and breath quicken despite his best efforts to not react. It was hard to resist the "serious voice".

"I want you to stay." Kisuke leaned down to nibble at the corner of Ichigo's mouth, dipping his tongue into the groove. "You're not leaving me tonight. I won't have it."

"Oh all right," Ichigo answered laughingly, his voice only marginally breathy. Almost without thinking, he drew Kisuke closer, reveling in the wide smile the older man graced him with upon his acquiescence and giving his own in return. "I mean, it _is_ rather nasty outside, isn't it? I could catch pneumonia and die!"

"Exactly my point!" Kisuke nuzzled at his neck, hands having removed themselves from Ichigo's clothes to wrap protectively around his body, shielding him from the cold with the folds of his haori. "Though I'm quite an effective caretaker should you ever fall ill."

"I'll try to remember that." Ichigo closed his eyes and sighed, pushing down further into the pillows to enjoy the moment of quiet. Minutes ticked by before he cracked open his eyelids and yawned, scratching fondly at the back of Kisuke's neck to rouse the older man from his dozing. "I should call my family and let them know I'm going to stay over though."

"Ohhh," came the somewhat-sheepish reply.

"Ohhh?" Ichigo echoed suspiciously, eyes opening fully to stare questioningly upwards. "What's that for?"

"Yes, well…you see Ichigo," Urahara began, pausing and giving him a brief smile full of teeth and apology. "I…well…"

"Out with it, Urahara."

"I already did. Hours ago."

"Figures."

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**And as a quick afterthought...I would just like to say THANK YOU to everyone who has gotten Sour Apple up to 100 reviews. I am very humbled. I hope to bring you guys more happy stories in the future that will make your day! Loves! Conjure.**


	9. Upside Down Cake

**Greetings beloved readers, and Happy New Year! This chapter was actually intended to come out on New Year's Eve, but I got a nasty case of the flu and couldn't finish it properly. So! That said, I have finished Kisuke's birthday fic a little late. This chapter is NC-17 with all that implies. Boy smut is a good way to start the new year, no?**

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Urahara Kisuke hated to clean.

It wasn't that he was a particularly dirty kind of person (filthy mind notwithstanding), he simply hated the physical labor involved with the endless sweeping and vacuuming and dusting and mopping. He hated the way the dust bunnies paraded out from under the futon stand and the way the back of the closet smelled when you aired out the old clothes you don't really wear anymore. He hated ringing out the mop and scrubbing the toilet, hated vacuuming those little corners behind the furniture and polishing the windows. And…more than anything…he _hated_ cleaning the oven. There was no more vile chore in all the world than to put on those long, yellow rubber gloves and crawl into the oven's mouth like Hansel and Gretel in the witch's house.

The fact that he was doing all these things on his birthday certainly didn't help matters either.

However, it couldn't be avoided. New years eve was glittering upon the shores of Japan, and that meant each nook and cranny of every house had to be cleaned within an inch of its life. It was a tradition, and as much as Kisuke hated doing it, there was a certain satisfaction in the end result of a day's worth of scrubbing and dusting. Granted, he felt disgusting and his sweaty hair was matted to his forehead like he'd participated in a triathlon, but the house and shoten were finally, blissfully, and all together immaculately clean. Next year they were hiring a maid service.

Kisuke sighed as he stood up from his last chore, pulling the soiled green head rag off his hair and trudging almost mournfully into the laundry room to toss it into the washing machine. As he poured a heaping cup of soap flakes into the hot water, he lamented on his lot in life and the sheer cruelness of it all. It was the same every year. It seemed almost brutally unfair that he should be forced to perform such menial tasks on his birthday, washing and cleaning like a scullery maid when he should have been pampered. Shouldn't this have been a day when he was spoiled?

"Why me?" he complained melodramatically, shutting the lid with a woeful sigh before hopping up on the machine to sit for a moment.

"Why you, what?" Ichigo walked into the room, his face obscured by the heaping pile of laundry that he carried in his arms. "Are you being a drama queen again?"

"I am not!" A plump bottom lip protruding from his mouth, Kisuke jumped down from the washer to cross his arms over his chest in a petulant motion. He was not being dramatic! This was serious business. A person should be spoiled on their birthday, not forced into what could only be described as slave labor! It was unconscionable.

Slowly, Ichigo began separating the clothes into their distinctive color piles, glancing up every now and again with a small, almost secretive smile on his face. What was so amusing? What did Ichigo know that Urahara didn't? The thought of being ignorant of something sent a wave of vague annoyance through Kisuke's veins, his eyes narrowing dangerously even as he clutched his crossed arms closer to his body. He _hated_ not knowing things. He _hated_ being out of the loop. Ichigo knew that! So what was he hiding?

His frustration was interrupted when Ichigo came forward to press their lips together unexpectedly, tugging gently at Kisuke's hair even though it was nasty and pushing them together against the washing machine. The kiss was deliciously sweet, temptingly gentle, and more than enough to banish the ho-hums from his mood before he could even question the reasoning behind such a surprising exchange. It was a few moments before their lips reluctantly disengaged, Urahara burying his face into the curve of Ichigo's neck and inhaling deeply.

Before promptly pulling away, his nose wrinkling with repugnance.

"You smell terrible Kurosaki-kun," he teased playfully, brushing their lips together again with a light laugh. "How can you ring in the new year reeking of filth?"

A glare of mock irritation was sent in his direction before Ichigo promptly grabbed his hand and led him wordlessly into the master bathroom, locking the door behind them with a decisive click. Both their clothes were soon in a pile, the room beginning to fill with sweet-smelling steam that clung to Kisuke's skin as he deposited himself on the small sitting stool at Ichigo's urging. He was about to ask what the younger man was up to when a liberal amount of shampoo was drizzled onto his head and deliciously massaged into his hair by Ichigo's long fingers.

Pure bliss.

Now _this_ was more like it! Kisuke's mouth expressed his appreciation for the small comfort, raining kisses on Ichigo's belly to feel the muscles contract under his lips with each delicate brush. He could have remained that way for the entirety of his birthday, just him and Ichigo's fingernails scraping ever so relaxingly against his scalp. Of course, he'd eventually grow weary of the treatment and demand that Ichigo's hands occupy themselves with _other_ parts of his anatomy, but that could wait until later when they could ring in the new year properly.

Slightly rough hands had moved from his head and journeyed to his neck where they pressed soap onto the dirty skin, rubbing away the feel of grime and sweat before traveling further down. Ichigo seemed intent on his task, raising Kisuke's arm to massage slowly at the palm of his hand while the water ran over both their skins, his eyes soft and peaceful. Urahara gazed up at him through wet bangs, wrapping his arms around Ichigo's waist when his hand was released and squeezing him tightly around the middle, closing his eyes in pleasure. Yes, this was definitely more like it.

"Let's just spend the rest of the day in bed." Kisuke leaned back against the wall, watching with lazy interest as Ichigo began washing his own hair, hands scrubbing a bit more roughly than they'd been doing a moment ago. "We could take a nap, indulge a few birthday fantasies, and wake up in time for the new year."

"Sounds fantastic." Ichigo shook his squeaky-clean head in a somewhat canine fashion, sending droplets of water all over the bathroom walls and onto the mirror. "But I think your guests would feel left out, don't you?"

Ahhh yes, his guests. Of course, it would be rather rude of them to spend the whole of new year's eve in bed when they had guests wandering around the house…and….waitaminute!

"Guests?" Urahara's eyebrow rose curiously. He didn't remember inviting anyone over to the shoten tonight. In fact, he'd planned to spend the majority of the evening discovering creative ways to make Ichigo writhe on as many suitable surfaces as he could find. What was this "guest" nonsense? Was he doomed to never get _any_ birthday sex at all?! Birthday sex was the best part of having a birthday!

Truly, he was a cursed, tormented man.

A long finger poked at the tip of his nose, jarring him from his self-absorption long enough to look up at a pair of amused brown eyes that were situated very close to his own. As sappily sentimental as it sounded, the color of Ichigo's eyes almost always made him feel about ten degrees warmer, heating up all the lonely places that had froze over in the past hundred years. One by one, all the eroded holes were being filled by this precious, headstrong, naughty young man.

"It's your birthday dumb-ass. It's also new year's eve. What, did you think we were going to spend the whole night having sex?" When Kisuke didn't respond right away, Ichigo's eyebrow twitched in a strange mixture of affection and annoyance. "Don't even bother to answer that…I already know. Get up and get dressed."

The smell of soba was drifting warmly through the house when he opened the door to his bedroom, the sound of numerous scuttling feet giving him the impression that there were far more people there than had been only an hour before. Casting a questioning look over at Ichigo, the redhead merely grinned and pushed him through the open door of the kitchen where he was met with at least a dozen surprised smiles and a table full of what appeared to be food. With Tessai one never really knew.

"And what's this?" he asked innocently, putting a hand up to his chest. "Could it be that all of you managed to remember my birthday this year?"

"Nah." Ichigo wrapped his arms around Kisuke's waist from behind, gently kissing the back of his neck and sending pleasant shivers across his skin. "I promised them free food and they circled like the vultures they are."

"That is not true!" Renji paused the noodles making their way to his mouth long enough to disagree. "I came for the big screen tv! Kohaku is on in a little while and I liked that show last year!"

True to form, two hours later a dozen people were sitting around a very large television arguing somewhat drunkenly and placing modest (or in Renji's case, not so modest) bets on who would win the annual singing contest, the vast majority of Kisuke's birthday cake distributed amongst them as they squabbled. The fruit, rice, wonton, tonkatsu, gyoza, daigakuimo, and yakisoba had also met their deaths at the hands of a gaggle of very hungry teenagers and shinigami. Not to mention there was an incredibly large soy sauce stain on the carpet leading from the kitchen to the living room, which Toushiro would only explain by pointing at Matsumoto with a very disparaging look on his face. Of course, she denied all claims of wrongdoing, though Tessai had promised some kind of vague and painful punishment later if she was lying.

The night was going rather well actually…

"Who are you betting on?" Ichigo opened his eyes long enough to ask, curled protectively in the curve of Kisuke's arm where he'd been situated most of the night. The two of them had deposited themselves on the pillows directly in front of the television early on, having claimed that the birthday boy shouldn't have to sit across the room from the entertainment and Ichigo would have to sit close by default. Ishida argued that was playing favorites…and really…Kisuke couldn't really disagree. Ichigo was, by far, his favorite. "I'm going with the white team. They have better singers."

"I don't know Kurosaki-kun," Kisuke murmured, rubbing delicate patterns on Ichigo's neck idly before trailing fingers slowly down his side, delighting in the shiver he received in return. "The white team has won the last three years. The red team is due a victory just by the law of averages."

"You want to make a little private bet then?" Ichigo's eyes lit up slightly, taking a short sip of sake from his cup and leaning in enthusiastically. "Something to spice up the end of the night a little?"

Kisuke's mind whirled with the possibilities, images flying through his head as he gazed thoughtfully down at his lover with an unreadable smile. To be honest…there _had_ been something he'd been wanting for a while, something that only Ichigo could really give him, something he'd been fantasizing about for months. Granted, he was a bit nervous to ask the younger man for it, partially because of his own trust issues and partially because Ichigo would undoubtedly be slightly thrown off balance by his request. But, nevertheless, the fact remained that Urahara Kisuke, the man who prided himself on always being in control, of always being on top of things, of always being right…desperately wanted a night on bottom.

It wasn't that he didn't _like_ being on top! Far from it. It was merely that every so often, he rather enjoyed the delicious feeling of being fucked securely into the mattress, of having to hang on for dear life as his lover took whatever they wanted from him and more. He wasn't too proud to admit to his desires, especially when they involved Ichigo. And wouldn't Ichigo make the most gorgeous seme ever? Kisuke shook his head as a few of his more…questionable fantasies played out in his mind's eye.

"Kisuke?" Ichigo's eyebrows were close together, his face a mask of concern. Perhaps he'd been daydreaming a little too long? "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine!" he said jovially, pulling Ichigo closer so that he could brush his lips against the curve of his ear and whisper into the shell. "How about…if I win, I get to be on bottom and if you win, you get to be on top."

Ichigo instantly froze against him, drawing away with an unreadable expression. For a few moments they merely stared at each other, Ichigo's eyes widening to the size of teacups as he pondered the implications of the bet. Finally, he seemed to collect himself and leaned in towards Kisuke's ear, his shuddering breath sending a wave of budding lust down the older man's spine.

"Are you sure?" Ichigo whispered breathily, his voice clearly uncertain. "I've never done it before…what if I hurt you?"

"Ichigoooo," Kisuke pouted, pulling away to give him big puppy dog eyes and a jutting bottom lip. No one could resist the magnetic pull of his pathetic look! "It's my birthday!"

"O-okay. But don't blame me if you don't like it!"

Not bothering to give the bet any more thought (for now), Kisuke pulled his haori off his arms and drew Ichigo closer with it, tugging the fabric up over the orange head with a soft chuckle. He quickly dove under the canopy of his coat as well, ignoring the calls from Ishida for them to get a room, and proceeded to kiss his worried lover senseless until Ichigo relaxed against him once more. It wasn't as though this was a hugely big deal after all, and once the younger man got used to the idea, they might even switch up more often!

Approximately two hours later Kisuke was discussing (I.e. arguing) with Yoruichi about whether or not Soul Society would ever give him a proper pardon (they still hadn't actually admitted that he'd done nothing wrong…per se) when he heard a soft snore coming from beside him. Looking down at the young bundle in his arms, he smiled at the absolutely charming picture his lover made using him as a human pillow. Sparing a glance over at the nearest clock, he laughed to discover that Ichigo had not actually made it to midnight at all. 11:05.

It was time for bed.

"Good night, and happy birthday Yoruichi-san," he whispered, lifting Ichigo in his arms and grunting when the younger man wrapped his long legs around him and squeezed tightly. "You'll see that everyone finds their arrangements for the night, yes?"

Without waiting for an answer, he made his way slowly to his bedroom, gently depositing Ichigo on the futon before turning to lock the door. There was really no point in hurrying now, not since Ichigo was out cold for the night and Kisuke was loathe to wake him. Even though the war was over, Urahara knew far too well that the younger man slept fitfully at best and rarely rested as much as he should. There was lingering tension in his blood that would probably never really go away. Ichigo would sleep until morning.

"Gods, I thought we'd never be alone."

Kisuke turned abruptly to the sound of a very sultry, very _awake_ voice coming from behind him, eyes going wide at the sight of Ichigo quite alertly snuggled against the mattress. An orange eyebrow rose when Kisuke didn't move right away, the redhead patting the bed in a come hither gesture with a not-so-subtle nod of his head. Urahara was impressed. He must have been rubbing off on the younger man for him to resort to such blatant trickery just to get a little privacy.

"You could have just said you were tired." Kisuke slid slowly onto the futon and spoke between kisses, moving up to bite playfully at Ichigo's ear until a rosy pink mark began to spread along the skin where his teeth were impacting. "Though I am impressed with the subterfuge."

"I learned from the best." Ichigo's arms circled around him tightly, rolling them until Kisuke was firmly on his back staring up at an absolute wet dream straddling his hips. The younger man's shirt was slowly risen, slowly exposing line after line of gorgeous abdomen to Kisuke's hungry gaze, the fabric tossed carelessly aside in a wrinkled puddle. Urahara's hands quickly followed his eyes, fingertips drawing nonsense patterns along each defined muscle, teasing at the dusky nipples that were already standing pert before he even grazed them. Ichigo bit at his bottom lip, head tipping backwards even as his eyes grew dark with desire.

The urge to have Ichigo ride him was almost overwhelming, the sheer thought of those supple legs clenching against his thighs while he bounced on Kisuke's cock nearly enough to melt his mind into a state of pure putty. But he couldn't let that happen! He still had to get his birthday sex! And it wasn't going to be birthday sex without Ichigo filling his body up and fucking him through the floorboards. After all…he _had_ promised.

Reaching up, Kisuke pulled the younger man down, licking at his bottom lip before sinking his teeth harshly into the flesh. "Time to keep your promises Ichigo," he purred low in his throat, watching the redhead's eyes darken and sparkle with understanding. To further illustrate his intentions, Kisuke spread his thighs wide, allowing Ichigo's body to slide in between and let their groins fall together, both of them hissing at the sensation. This was going to be so good…he could just tell.

Before he could ponder their future pleasure any further, he found himself suddenly divested of numerous articles of clothing, Ichigo's warm mouth biting a stinging trail down the middle of his chest as his broad hand cupped Urahara's cock in his palm and massaged it in a way that could only be described as dominating. Kisuke's groaning voice came out strained, meeting his lover's eyes and smiling at the growing longing bubbling behind that sweet face. Ichigo grinned back, cocking his head to the side in a questioning gesture before swiftly tugging the older man's pants down the rest of the way, leaving him deliciously, gloriously naked.

"You really want this, don't you?" Ichigo settled down on his belly between Kisuke's legs, chuckling gently as he bit down on the inside of his thigh. "You really want me buried balls deep inside that sweet ass of yours."

"Yes," came Urahara's whispered reply, his blood practically set on fire by the brazenness of Ichigo's words. Of course, Ichigo's mouth drawing down around his cock wasn't too damn bad either, and his fingers brushing back behind his balls was definitely something that Kisuke could enjoy.

His head fell backwards as his cock was assaulted with a mind-melting mixture of tongue and teeth, shaking fingers digging into bright orange locks as he struggled to hold back his moans lest he alert everyone in the house to their current condition. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have given a damn whether or not everyone knew what they were up to, but he didn't want to give Ichigo any reason whatsoever to feel self-conscious. The younger man was already nervous, and he probably would react poorly to anyone giving him trouble after this was over.

And trouble for Ichigo would almost assuredly involve never topping again as long as they lived.

A particularly hard scrape at the base of his cock made Kisuke groan brokenly, throwing a hand up over his mouth and biting down hard against the bend of his thumb to mute himself. _Quiet. Silence. Be quiet!_ But a long suckle at a sensitive vein and he was bucking upwards, a dragging tongue along the tip and his head thrashed wildly from side to side, a warm laugh vibrating up his erection and he nearly lost it, gritting his teeth and moaning out Ichigo's name as though it were his last hope of salvation. Ichigo's mouth and hands were everywhere, and they washed away _everything_. But it was a pleasant nothingness, like floating on waves of pure elation, of pure bliss, of unending desire.

And then it hit him, the somewhat nerve-wracking sensation of a slick finger pushing past the first ring of muscle and diving into his body, making his eyes go wide and his breath come out shakily. It had been a long time since someone had done this to him, and the feeling of being breached after so many years wasn't something that he could immediately become comfortable with. Fingering yourself was one thing, but having someone else do it was an entirely different matter all together.

But this was Ichigo…it was Ichigo…and he _loved_ Ichigo. And Ichigo would never hurt him, no matter what. And he was too old to be this nervous about being fucked by his lover...and…and…

"Kisuke?" Ichigo pulled up off his cock, bringing their faces together though he didn't stop the inward movement of his finger. "Look at me Kisuke."

Eyes he couldn't remember closing opened back up, and he stared dazedly up into a pair of sweet amber irises, reaching to cup at Ichigo's face and kiss softly at his lips. Everything was fine. The finger already buried deep inside him was joined by another, and he winced slightly as they stretched and scissored at his body, prompting his kisses to turn desperate and messy in an attempt to distract himself. So far it wasn't working, but Ichigo's touch was gentle, his mouth pulling away from Kisuke's to rain soothing kisses all along his brow line, making the older man feel somewhat foolish and immature.

Then again, being with Ichigo had taught him that no matter how much he might think he knew himself, there would always be surprises around every turn as long as he held onto the young man's hand.

"Am I hurting you?" Ichigo whispered softly, sweeping the hair out of Kisuke's eyes with a deeply concerned expression, though his flushed cheeks and sweaty skin betrayed how very much he was restraining his own lust. "I can stop…"

"No!" Urahara rapidly protested, pushing his hips down harshly onto Ichigo's fingers to force them upwards against his prostate. The pleasure and reaction were instant, his voice calling out loudly despite his initial attempts to rein it in, fingers digging into the flesh of Ichigo's back and raking his nails down the skin. And Ichigo's reaction was prompt as well, slamming their lips together fiercely and fingerfucking Kisuke until he was certain he was only a few strokes short of coming all over his own belly. What had Ichigo been concerned about again? This was fantastic, wonderful, mind breaking, delicious, spectacular, any number of all-together-good adjectives that you could possibly come up with.

He whined somewhat pathetically when the fingers were abruptly removed, turning his head slightly to the side to chuckle at his own lack of self-control. Ichigo, confused by the sudden sound, raised a curious eyebrow, rubbing their noses together determinedly to get Kisuke's attention. He looked odd, almost as though he couldn't believe that Urahara would be laughing at a time like this and not exactly certain what had caused the reaction. Did he think he'd done something wrong?

"You're fine," Kisuke leaned upwards, brushing their lips together. "It's just odd feeling like a virgin when I'm old enough to remember Queen Victoria."

Above him Ichigo smiled warmly, shaking his head before becoming suddenly very serious, sitting back on his haunches to survey the situation. "So…what now? I mean, how do you…?"

Deciding to make things a bit easier on his young lover, Kisuke gently pushed upwards and flipped them around, watching Ichigo's hair fan out on the pillow beneath him like an erotic novel come to life. Just because Urahara wasn't going to be seeing Ichigo ride his cock tonight didn't mean he couldn't do a little bareback riding himself. Not to mention it would take some of the pressure off Ichigo's nerves and let him enjoy himself a bit more.

"Allow me." Kisuke murmured, spreading his thighs to either side of Ichigo's strong hips with a lustful grin. At first Ichigo didn't seem to know what was going on, but when Urahara reached down to grasp the redhead's cock in his hand and position it at his ass, understanding filled the teenager's eyes like liquid mercury. His hands rose instinctively then to the blonde's hips to steady him, pink tongue coming out to lick his lips in concentration for what would be coming next.

It would almost have been too cute…if Kisuke hadn't been so interested in being fucked senseless.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to lower himself onto Ichigo's cock, closing his eyes and leaning forward with a low moan as he did so. It didn't hurt so much as burn, stretching his body past the point of comfort and into a realm that he hadn't visited in so long that the sensation felt quite foreign. His skin was on fire; sweat beading up on every limb, his breath rushing out of him even as he tried to keep it in. Ichigo _fit_. There was no other way to describe it. They _fit_. Continuing to incline towards Ichigo's form, he sighed softly when he felt their chest's make contact, Ichigo's rising and falling more rapidly by the second. Momentarily concerned, Kisuke opened his eyes and smiled when his lover's body finally filled him up to the hilt and he could see straight again to study Ichigo's condition.

The boy looked as though he'd just been shot, eyes wide and vaguely frightened as he obviously fought for control of himself with each strained breath. His hands were quivering against Kisuke's hips, fingernails digging almost painfully into the sensitive skin, prompting the older man to rain understanding kisses all along Ichigo's forehead, hoping to calm him. It _was_ a little overwhelming the first time you topped anyone, though Ichigo was handling it much better than Urahara had expected. He hadn't passed out yet or anything, so that was a good sign.

In fact, Urahara was so intent upon making sure Ichigo was well in hand that the first thrust took him completely by surprise, rocking him forward with a startled cry as Ichigo pulled out and slammed in again with more force. The fear was suddenly gone in those brown eyes, replaced by intense desire, his hands becoming steady against Kisuke's skin as they traveled upwards towards his nipples to tweak them teasingly. Urahara moaned and sat up straighter, balancing himself by placing his hands on Ichigo's shoulders and pushing himself down hard on the erection forcing its way inside him.

"Kisuke!" Ichigo cried out, hands gliding down Urahara's back to cup at his ass and squeeze, pulling the cheeks apart to give his own cock more room to work. His orange head fell backwards, adam's apple bobbing wildly as he swallowed and struggled to breath. "Fuck!"

Urahara sped up his hips, encouraged by Ichigo's growing intensity and his own rising desire. Every movement of their thighs smacking together, their bodies becoming slick and heavy, their hands sliding desperately across each other's skins, was making Kisuke's head go fuzzy, his teeth clench together, his heart pound frantically against his ribcage. Sounds were coming from his mouth now, not the normal grunts and moans of their usual lovemaking, but liquid, purring, deep moaning sounds, each time Ichigo's cock would pound into his ass and then pull back out, becoming louder as their bodies took up a more hurried pace.

An impassioned call of Ichigo's name fell from Urahara's lips as he tumbled almost clumsily forward, hands slipping against Ichigo's sweat-slick shoulders to wrap around his neck with possessive need. Their mouths met the moment he impacted the body below, tongues flicking out to tease at each other's teeth and rub against the undersides of their lips before pulling away in a mess of saliva, sharp curses and moans. Kisuke had long since ceased to care about whether or not they could be heard, his many-tracked-mind narrowed down to only the feel of Ichigo's body moving in and out of his own.

The rest would take care of itself.

Without warning he found himself flipped onto his back, wide gray eyes staring up into the face of a man that could only be described as somewhat desperate. Ichigo pressed trembling lips against his ear; breath panting out hotly into the shell as his body continued its assault, cock rubbing ceaselessly against Kisuke's prostate until he thought certainly his control would break at any moment. And yet the pleasure continued, winding his body into tighter and tighter knots while his thighs coiled securely around his lover's hips to support himself.

"Are…you close?" Ichigo gasped out loudly through a deep moan, pleading eyes within inches of Urahara's own. "I can't…"

Kisuke knew what he was trying to say. Neither of them could last much longer, and Ichigo was too inexperienced with being on top to continue at that pace for any extended period of time. It didn't really matter though…Kisuke was close. So close that he barely registered it when his fingers reached into Ichigo's hair and tugged sharply as his climax began to overtake him. He barely felt it when his teeth sunk down into Ichigo's shoulder and he felt his voice break from the ragged scream of pleasure ripped from his throat. He was really aware of nothing but the earth-shattering orgasm rippling through his body, setting every nerve alight, making him shudder involuntarily even as his body clamped down on Ichigo's cock so hard that Kisuke worried later that it might have actually _hurt_ him.

Ichigo followed a split second later, mouth falling open in an expression of absolute awe, his voice that had been so loud moments before gone in a wash of extreme ecstasy. Kisuke clutched the younger man close through his peak, hardly able to hold on with his quivering arms and legs before letting them fall away when Ichigo whimpered breathlessly and collapsed heavily on top of him. Everything felt…fluffy. From the somewhat saddening feeling of Ichigo's erection softening and dislodging from his body to the way he was being gently curled into welcoming arms. Everything felt deliciously soft and pleasant.

They stayed that way for long minutes, neither man moving save for a tender brushing of skin or a half-whispered word of devotion. Kisuke eventually found himself nestled securely in the bend of Ichigo's arm, still-sweaty face pressed gently into a graceful neck while he luxuriated in the rain of kisses being bestowed on the top of his blonde head. He tried valiantly to repay the affection, nibbling soft bites along the pulse of Ichigo's neck, sucking at sensitive points, nipping almost playfully at the juncture of his ear and jawbone.

"Easy now, I can't do that again for a few minutes," Ichigo laughed quietly, looking down at him with an almost serene expression. "Besides…its time to ring in the new year."

"Isn't that what we were just doing?" Kisuke grinned somewhat lecherously, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Listen."

Pausing his teasing, Kisuke lifted his head up (with a great deal of effort) and tuned in his ears, smiling at the echoing rumble of a temple bell somewhere in the distance. Midnight had arrived, and with it the traditional sound of the season ringing out over the tops of the houses, calming the atmosphere instantly with their cleansing tone. Sighing quietly, Kisuke wrapped his arms around Ichigo's middle and closed his eyes, wishing he could remain in that precise moment for the next hundred years at least.

"Maybe next year I should pray to be less depraved," Urahara whispered, counting down the bells under his breath while the sounds of his houseguests celebrating in a far off room filtered through the peace. "Then I could finally live a virtuous life."

"It would never work," Ichigo countered, kissing his temple. "You're too set in your ways to stop now."

"You're only saying that because you'd miss my incredible lovemaking skills."

"Maybe," came the sleepily playful reply, Ichigo's voice drifting and slurring slightly.

"Maybe you're only saying that or maybe you'd miss my lovemaking?"

Silence.

"Ichigooooo!"

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**I actually started this story more than a year ago. Hard to believe. I'm glad you guys have stuck with me! This story is FAR from over, trust me. It's my baby and I love it. Happy 2009!**


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